


Chasing The Clouds Away

by sugar-and-spice-parker (WriterReadsStuff)



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Age Regression/De-Aging, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Alternate Universe- Littles are known, BIG TW THERE, Human Trafficking, Natasha talks about it here and there, No yucky stuff just adorableness, Non-Sexual Age Play, You can find details on tumblr, all other tws will be mentioned in the summaries
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-30
Updated: 2020-12-03
Packaged: 2021-03-01 20:09:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 29
Words: 27,977
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23922859
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WriterReadsStuff/pseuds/sugar-and-spice-parker
Summary: “Sunny days, chasing the clouds away (ohhh), can you tell me how to get- how to get to sesame street?”This story follows the intertwined tales of three littles, three caregivers, two best friends, and one desperate uncle as their relationships rekindle, grow, and evolve.While Peter and Tony continue to build their relationship as a freshly created family, Natasha and Thor each lean on the other for support and reassurance, and Bucky and Steve love each other unconditionally. All the while, Loki puts forth his best to ensure a relationship with his niece, and MJ and Ned search for their long lost friend.As expected, chaos and cuddling ensues.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes & Steve Rogers, Loki & Natasha Romanov, Loki & Thor (Marvel), Michelle Jones & Ned Leeds, Michelle Jones & Ned Leeds & Peter Parker, Natasha Romanov & Thor, Peter Parker & Tony Stark, Steve Rogers & Thor, Steve Rogers & Tony Stark, Tony Stark & Thor
Comments: 190
Kudos: 137





	1. Playdates and Jealousy

**Author's Note:**

> HIHIHIHI!!!! Welcome, everyone! If we haven’t had the pleasure of meeting yet, I’m Laney, and you can hop on over to my tumblr (sugar-and-spice-parker) for information and some lore context to this story.
> 
> I am so glad that you guys are here to read! Let’s go!!

One could say that Peter Anthony Stark was the jealous type.

Well, one could _say_ it, but it _certainly_ wouldn’t be true.  


He wasn’t jealous. No sir. The little boy simply liked having his Daddy all to himself and preferred to throw a tantrum when somebody else tried to take him away. Which, as everyone knows, is perfectly acceptable non-jealous behavior.

Tony understood his boy’s attachment, as he’d been the one to allow him to imprint on him like a baby duckling from their first time meeting at the adoption center. 

Peter didn’t even complain when his middle and last names were changed during the paperwork, as most littles tended to, already completely infatuated with his newfound caregiver.

The man simply had learned over the last few months not to upset Peter’s jealous nature. It was easy, of course, or so he thought.

“I don’ wanna!” Peter cried, kicking his feet from the top of his changing table.  


“You have to start making friends, Petey. You can’t just play with Daddy all day for the rest of your life.” Tony pleaded, “Come on, baby, it’s just Bucky. You remember meeting him at lunch a few weeks ago, don’t you? You and him played in the ball pit together?”

This did not entice Peter _at all_. 

Of course he remembered Bucky, the other little had given his daddy a hug. Which, as far as he was concerned, was the best way to immediately establish oneself as a horrible person and stupid excuse for a “best friend” or whatever it was that their daddies expected them to be.

He hated Bucky... even if the ball pit had been really fun.

At that thought, Peter heard the doorbell ring from downstairs. 

“That must be your Uncle Steve, let’s go say hi!” Tony chirped, trying to keep his baby’s spirits up before the inevitable downfall when something didn’t go his way.

He _really_ needed to start teaching Peter accountability.

Coming to the bottom of the steps, Tony could blearily make out the figures of Steve and Bucky from beyond the artistically smudged glass of the front door.

Tony swung the door open with a grand bravado, hoping the excitement alone would be enough to rouse Peter from his fussy state. 

Of course, it didn’t work, but who was going to blame him for giving it a shot?

“Uncle Tony! Uncle Tony!” Bucky cheered, running into the house and jumping at Tony’s side, begging to be lifted. 

“Woah there, Buckaroo.” Steve chided, pulling his own little back a bit, “Uncle Tony’s got an armful of Peter right now, you gotta give him some space.”

At that, the two adults laughed. Littles were always being silly, weren’t they just? “It’s nice to see you, Steve. You too, Buck.” Tony greeted.

Abruptly, Bucky began to jump again, this time keeping his eyes trained skillfully on Peter. “Hi, Peter!” He sang, “Wanna play?”

Peter hummed, before tearfully shoving his face into the crook of his daddy’s neck.

“Petey-pie, come on. Let’s go play with your cousin for a little while, alright?” Tony crooned, gently petting his boy on the back. Peter sighed, but failed to bother with getting his daddy off of his case.

Coming through to Peter’s more-than-lavish playroom (what? Tony was a literal multi-billionaire. Sue him for spoiling his baby.) Tony suffered through Bucky’s endless babbling.

“And I wanna get a pet rhino for my birthday so I can ride him to my room at bedtime and name him Sir Rhino ‘cause he’s a prince and- WOAH LOOK AT THAT!”

Thank the Madonna and child that the boy had been shocked enough by the extraordinary display of toys to save Tony another earful. Perks of being a multi-billionaire, the man supposed.

Immediately, recognizing the sound of his own music playing over the room’s wireless speakers, Peter poked his head out and began to wiggle in his daddy’s arms.

“Want down, bud?”

Peter nodded rapidly, his adorable little curls flying wildly over his face. Tony laughed, brushing them back as he sat his boy down.

Quickly, Peter made the decision to crawl instead of attempt to walk, and made his merry way over to one of his favorite toys- a fuzzy doll that looked like Bear from Bear In The Big Blue House.

The little boy began to playfully swing his beloved toy back and forth, making small babbling noises to simulate a conversation between him and the bear, as Bucky grabbed a Barbie doll, and Tony took it as a win.

-

Well, it would have been a win had his and Steve’s little coffee session not been roughly broken up by a loud scream coming out of the playroom. 

Upon running in, Tony found that, no, Peter wasn’t dead. Rather, he was perfectly fine. He just... wasn’t in the best mood.

“Give back!” The boy demanded, kicking his socked feet into Bucky’s face.

“No, mine!” The older little retaliated, grabbing Peter by his ankle and twisting it until he elicited an ear-piercing scream from his cousin.

Quickly, the two caregivers each ran to their little’s side, pulling the two boys apart in their haste to quell the rampant fighting. 

“You meanie! My Bear! My Bear! Give here!” Peter continued to shout, screaming the house down in his agony over the missing toy from his clutches, trying to get it back still, despite no longer being alone with Bucky in the room.

Little boys, as Tony was beginning to figure out, had a strong sense of morality. They needed constant reminders that they were not the jury judge and executioners of every situation, or else they would unleash the worst of the worst on everyone they came near.

“Peter!” “Bucky!” They shouted in unison, before both of the men quickly made the decision to begin switching into the all-feared Daddy Mode (tm).

“Peter Anthony Stark, why wouldn’t you share Bear with Bucky?” Tony asked, holding Peter tightly in his arms as the boy began to cry his little eyes out.

“I-I wan’ my Bear, Daddy! No Buc’y no more!” The poor thing whined.

“Daddy, I just took him for a sec’nd. I woulda given him right back when I was done lookin’.” Bucky mumbled, trying to pull a fast one on his caregiver with a pair of puppy dog eyes and a pout to match.

“Oh, baby, we have to share our toys. You wouldn’t like it if Bucky had a toy you wanted to borrow and he said no, would you?”

“Bucky, you know you need to be nice to Peter. He’s still new to his surroundings and he’s a lot littler than you are.” Steve reprimanded, “You need to be the big boy in the situation and keep from fighting. Maybe come get a grown up next time there’s a disagreeable, hm? We wouldn’t want Peter learning to copy you if it means he thinks fighting is okay.”

“Nuh uh. I wanna borrow.” Peter mumbled, finally calm enough to tuck his head under his daddy’s chin. The boy closed his eyes, the upset fully over with, as he slowly slipped away from consciousness and fell asleep for an early morning nap.

“I’m sorry, Daddy.” Bucky apologized. Steve smiled down at his boy, giving him a big hug. “That’s very polite, sweetheart. I would normally have you apologize to Peter and Uncle Tony instead but...”

At that moment, he took notice to the sleeping little in Tony’s arms, and began to feel a similarly reminiscent weight hitting his chest. There, laid against him, was Bucky, out like a log from the excitement.

Tony stood up, just noticing that Steve also had a tired little on his hands, and grabbed the other man’s shoulder in a gesture of camaraderie.

“Let’s go ahead and lay them down, Peter has a trundle on his crib for sleepovers.”

Together, they laid the boys down for Peter’s naptime, and shut out the light.


	2. No Excuses

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back, folks! This chapter is going to start Natasha and Thor’s portion of the story, similar to how last chapter introduced Bucky, Steve, Peter, and Tony. Hope you all enjoy! Cheers!!

“Natasha, wakey wakey.”

Thor continued gently shaking his little girl, nudging her awake with the calming nature that was to be expected of a well-mannered father.

Natasha whined mutely, beginning to toss around in her big girl bed. “No, Daddy. I wanna stay s’eep.” She mumbled. Thor laughed in response, chuckling at his girl’s antics.

“Now, now, Natasha. We have to go to see Dr. Banner today. Remember him? You did so well being brave for him last week that he wants to see you again!”

Suddenly, Natasha was wide awake, her body going rigid as she seemed to realize that she was due for her weekly therapy session.

Dr. Robert Bruce Banner, a caring fellow with more PHDs than was probably necessary, had been taking Natasha for a few years now. The little girl had been adopted a bit later than most, having been nearly to her 18th birthday before Thor found her, and it was all for one reason.

Her file was ridden with warnings. Her severe case of PTSD seemed to be a red flag for most people, considering that they didn’t trust themselves to properly care for her without screwing something up. A downside of the Caregiver mindset, Thor assumed.

Still, despite the fact that she was always happy by the time she left the little office in Brooklyn, Natasha always got incredibly nervous when she had to go in for an appointment with Dr. Banner. 

“Daddy, I don’ wan’ go. I just… I just stay with you today. ‘Kay?” She asked, her voice lilting in reminisce.

Thor thought about it for a moment. Clearly, she was doing the same thing she had done every visit before, but something felt different today. She wasn’t crying or shaking, wasn’t throwing a fit or having a tantrum. She was just… uneasy.

Judging by the little one’s body language, the frequent nerves were as present as ever. She was holding on tight to her little ballerina dolly, Vincenza, whom she had insisted upon taking to bed with her the night before, and was wiggling warily under her daddy’s gaze.

Still, she wasn’t as fussy as last week. Or the week before that. Or every week for the past 6 years they’ve had together.

Perhaps he could use that.

“How about this, princess.” Thor declared, “If you buck up and go see Dr. Banner, I can try and see if your uncle Loki wants to go out for ice cream afterwards.”

That certainly made Natasha perk up. Her eyes began to glow and sparkle, the temptation of ice cream and a visit from her uncle at the same time completely overpowering the nervous energy she had felt but momentous ago.

“I eat ice cream?” She clarified, pointing to herself and making a motion where she pretended to hold an ice cream cone and licked the air.

“Yes, darling,” He laughed, “you can eat the ice cream, I promise. But we need to go see Dr. Banner first, okay?” He explained.

Littles in her age range were always so silly, but that was the best part. 

As a caregiver, Thor had the gift of watching her learn to enjoy herself, every single day beginning to unravel more and more from that scared little thing he had brought home from the adoption center.

Natasha shuddered a bit at the reminder of the situation’s quid pro quo, but seemed to pass it off at the consolation. “Brucie then ice cream. ‘Kay.”

“Now, let’s go get you dressed and then we can head off to your appointment.” Thor suggested, picking the girl up and carrying her to her special spot on the floor by the dresser.

There stood a great big, plush chair. It was white and had a pink throw blanket laying over the top. In front of it was a small black rug, sized just right so that Natasha always had a safe space to stand while she was being dressed.

It had taken a long time to get the simple design just right, but Thor took great pleasure in knowing that his little princess was secure and calm while going through the stressful daily experience.

The caregiver began to sift through the clothing.

“Do you want to wear your little red sundress, baby?” He asked, “I know it’s getting a little warm out, huh? Then again, it is the city…”

Natasha seemed to catch sight of something else in the dresser, reaching over and pointing at it. 

“I like the b’ack one, Daddy. P’ease and t’ank you.” She said, smiling all the while.

Thor perked up at the suggestion. “Oh, the black dress! So smart, my little princess. This one has sleeves and pockets.” He concluded, “You like when your dresses have pockets, hm?”

The little nodded. “Pretty. Matches shoes, too.”

Ah, the shoes. Natasha’s favorite pair. They were adorable and had little bows fitted atop the velcro laces, and were covered in glitter on the main parts.

Thor rolled his eyes, but agreed nonetheless. “Oh, you want the black sneakers today?” He said, feigning surprise, “Those are very pretty darling, yes. Just be careful to keep them clean.”

“Got it!” She squealed in glee.

The pair continued their dressing, Natasha calmly allowing her daddy to do his best at getting her done up while she stayed in her special safe spot.

Afterwards, Thor took her through the little apartment, and sat her on a barstool in the kitchenette to do her hair in the best attempt he had at braided pigtails, hoping the red bows that he added to the end of either one would cover up his mistakes.

Can’t blame a daddy for trying, can you?

“We can stop somewhere along the way for breakfast.” He expounded. “Maybe that McDonalds over by Prospect Park? That’s on the way. You always did like having a strawberry banana smoothie and a chocolate muffin top for breakfast. Is that something you want today?”

Natasha giggled at the mention of her favorite meal. “Yes, Daddy. Choc’ate is yummy! That’s good.”

Thor chuckled. “I agree, being yummy is a definite plus.” He said.

God, he loved her.

He loved being a daddy. He loved everything about it.

Even when the bad times hit, for either of their sakes, he loved every second of every day as long as he could spend it with her.

The two of them began their journey out the front door, quietly holding hands as they made their way down the elevator and out the door of the apartment complex, into the large garage area.

Thor quickly picked his girl up, placing her in her carseat and clicking the many complicated buckles into place. The seat had been a gift from Tony, a welcome home present for Natasha. 

Of course, at that time, the man’s own little hadn’t even been classified yet, still biologically being a mere ten years old. Honestly, that kind of hurt Thor’s head to think about Peter ever being anywhere near as mature as the oldest littles. 

Suddenly, Natasha yelped in realization.

“Wait! ‘Cenza, Daddy!” She shouted, “We bring ‘Cenza so she get ice cream like me and you and- and Uncle Loki! She come too!”

Thor really didn’t want her to get the doll dirty. He hated seeing her cry whenever they had to put Vincenza in the washing machine. 

Still, if it would make her happy...

“Alright, alright!” The man conceded, “I’ll go grab her. You stay in your seat, okay? Daddy will be right back, I promise.”

Abruptly, the little girl’s lip began to quiver as she realized that her caregiver would be momentarily leaving her in the car alone.

Of course, Thor would never do such a thing.

“You know what?” He said, “Here, take my phone. You know Daddy would never go without it, hm? So you know I won’t leave you if you have it.”

Natasha nodded, murmuring out a small “Mhm.” as she began to play with the device in her hands, typing in the password she knew so well to begin playing one of the many games she had on there.

Before running off, Thor knew he had one more thing to say to his little princess.

“I love you, Natasha. You know that?”

“Love you, Daddy. To pluto and back.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That’s all for today, folks! Feel free to chat with me on tumblr (@sugar-and-spice-parker). As always, comments and kudos are much appreciated!! Tysm and love you all!!!!


	3. Lost Forever

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They had showed up at his apartment that night, brandishing gifts in hopes of celebrating with their friend. They hadn’t expected for Peter’s aunt, May, to open the door, crying all the while.
> 
> She’d explained to the children that Peter was gone. 
> 
> Shipped off to a boarding school in the midwest, she’d told them, far away from New York so that he could begin the next chapter of his life.
> 
> Peter Benjamin Parker had been officially classified by the Federal Bureau of Classification as a little as of August 10th, 2014.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here’ssssssss MJ!

Michelle Jones had been thirteen years, four months, and seventeen days old when the love of her life was stolen from her in the name of the classification system.

It had been so easy for her and Ned to settle into their Neutral titles, they hadn’t even questioned the chance that Peter wouldn’t be as lucky. 

He’d always been on the meeker side, always been small and underdeveloped. He was tiny and quiet, the usual warning signs that adults would pick up on, joking about how you could “just tell what he’s going to test as”.

But to them, that didn’t make him any different. He was just Peter. 

Peter, the kid who was a perfect friend and peer.

Peter, the kid who could never keep his hair out of his face in the school pictures.

Peter, the kid who lost his backpack every two weeks.

Peter, the kid who had the right to show up at school every day like anyone else.

They had showed up at his apartment that night, brandishing gifts in hopes of celebrating with their friend. They hadn’t expected for Peter’s aunt, May, to open the door, crying all the while.

She’d explained to the children that Peter was gone. 

Shipped off to a boarding school in the midwest, she’d told them, far away from New York so that he could begin the next chapter of his life.

Peter Benjamin Parker had been officially classified by the Federal Bureau of Classification as a little as of August 10th, 2014.

It simply wasn’t fair. Flash had had a hay day when Peter didn’t show up at school the following day, exploiting the fact that they all knew exactly what it meant when a thirteen-year-old didn’t return after being classified.

She’d tried to track Peter down as they got older, frantically searching for a lead as to where the FBC may have placed him. 

They hadn’t told May and Ben any more than that it was a midwestern institution, and provided a few pictures of the facilities so that they could rest assured that their nephew would be happy and safe under the care of the staff there.

Really, the place looked like any other Little Training Center. There were some playrooms and a large playground accompanied by rolling fields behind the big, barbed wire fence. 

The photos of the boys’ dormitory looked nice, if not a little bit cramped with more than 100 beds and cribs in the large room. Still, it was sectioned off so that the littles would be separated by age, which was nice.

A massive cafeteria was filled by boys in the picture, most of which were eating hot dogs in one form or another, save for only the ones who were too little for anything besides baby food or a bottle. 

Something about it all seemed oddly placating, knowing that all of the kids there were so happy. Like Peter had just gone off to a better life.

No.

It wasn’t good enough.

MJ knew that she owed it to herself not to give up on finding him. On saying goodbye.

She eventually found the name and exact location by a few days after her sixteenth birthday. Mackleberry Institute of Little Schooling, a strangely gruff name for such a sweet little place.

May had refused to join her in the venture, the anniversary of Ben’s passing being too much for her to add to, but Ned had faithfully tagged along.

It wasn’t near Peter’s birthday yet, they knew that. So, when they arrived at the front door of MILS, they assumed that the staff would allow them entry. They were close to success.

Ish.

The staff allowed them to come inside briefly, but only to walk through the halls and enter the office of the headmaster. 

During the walk, both teenagers had scoured the face of each little boy they passed, looking over the girls in hopes of recognizing Peter in the crowds. Luck wasn’t on their side with that venture.

Red hair.

Blonde hair.

Green eyes.

Chubby cheeks.

Fuller lips.

Each little looked different from the face they remembered, but so eerily similar at the same time.

They explained to the headmaster, a kindly middle-aged man who’s name befitted the institution, implying he must have inherited the position from many other Headmaster Mackleberries in the past, that they were looking for Peter.

He was understanding, explaining to them that Peter Parker was one of his favorite charges, always stopping by to ask for candy or a hug.

Little came of it all, however, as Peter was considered much too far along in his adjustment to have any visitors, though they were invited to see a few pictures of him that were hanging in the hallway, whilst an assistant kept Peter away from them.

The photos featured Peter in many different situations. Playing with the other boys, covered in finger paint, or just sitting in the circle of littles during story time. 

They were cute. It was nice to see his face again, which had matured over the course of the last few years, but it wasn’t enough.

As the months went on, the two neutrals had celebrated Peter’s sixteenth birthday without him. They wondered, in the weeks following, where he might have gone for adoption.

If they had sent him to a center that was nearby the school, perhaps he would be able to stay close to those beautiful fields and sunny skies.

Or, if he was sent out of the country, they could have a problem on their hands. Peter wouldn’t handle well in such an unfamiliar place, they feared.

It wasn’t really about Peter, though, was it?

Everything was up to the FBC. Their algorithms and methods kept the peace, but also kept those like Peter from having any control over their lives at all.

Perhaps a nice caregiver from the countryside had taken him in, or a big family with six littles beforehand to keep him constantly busy.

She assumed, quite naturally, that Peter must have gone off to live with a caregiver within days. 

Most littles, unless there were any warnings attached to their file, were adopted almost immediately. No matter their appearance, they all found homes quickly. 

That was the job of adoption centers, though. To get every little matched with an interested family within the week.

It was not a big surprise that such a thing would occur, being that there were new caregivers being reintroduced to society just as fast as new littles were. It was the way of things.

Peter seemed like a perfect little for adoption, so they guessed that he’d be gone within days.

MJ had no reason to believe she would ever see Peter again.

That is, until…

**STARK ADOPTS FIRST LITTLE AT AGE 42, READ MORE ON PETER ANTHONY STARK ON PAGE 7**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay okay okay, I love you all and I want you to know that! This would have been up earlier today but I may or may not have slept in until noon. Quarantine life! As always, comments and kudos are much appreciated!!!


	4. The Alphabet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter wants to practice his letters for Uncle Steve, but he just can’t get it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AHHHHHH I LOVE ALL OF YOU’RE SO NICE

“Okay, baby, can you sing the song?”

“Mhm!” Peter crooned, smiling and frantically nodding his head.

The other day, the Little had been dragged to a playdate with Bucky at Steve’s house. It went horribly, more fights and tears than Tony would like to admit, but Peter was showing some more interest in bonding with Bucky as the afternoon droned on.

The other boy had made quite the effort into “teaching” Peter, which led to many a tantrum, but seemed to keep them both somewhat entertained. Really, it appeared that Bucky was just excited to be the oldest of the two.

Bucky had especially enjoyed teaching him the alphabet song. While well above Peter’s age range, and not really necessary, the lesson was quick and cute, and the little boy had been very excited to practice his new trick at home.

Or so he claimed.

“... are you going to do it?” He asked, noticing Peter’s continued silence.

The boy mumbled in return. “‘morrow.” He said, his head hanging low in shame. The Little appeared apprehensive.

“No, sweetheart.” Tony contended, “You’re never going to learn if you don’t practice.” He really didn’t care if Peter knew the song, the boy would never need it seeing as how young he was, but he wasn’t going to let his own Little learn to procrastinate.

“Bucky don’t p’actice!” Peter whined in retaliation.

Tony sighed. “Bucky doesn’t need to. You’re not Bucky, though, you’re Peter. And Peter needs to practice.” He explained. 

The boy only groaned, and began to kick his feet into the floor as he stared longingly at where his Bear sat in the corner of the living room, tediously placed atop the couch.

“... don’t know it.” He pouted.

Tony laughed. “What do you mean you don’t know it? Bucky taught it to you.” What was Peter on about? He had been right there, watching the boy repeat after his cousin for a solid twenty minutes.

“Fowgot.” Peter cried.

Tony hated seeing his little one cry. They hadn’t been a family for very long, but he had had more than enough experiences with the situation than he liked to remember.

It was the way that Peter cried, really, that made him so upset. The boy would start so softly, and then turn to choking sobs in a millisecond.

The very first time Tony played with Peter, during one of their meetings at the adoption center, the poor thing had burst into tears after the toy he wanted to show off was missing from the doll box.

Of course, that was all resolved as soon as one of the attendants figured out that another Little had hidden it in their crib, too young to comprehend the concept of stealing, and fetched it for Peter to have.

Still, Tony would never forget that moment.

“Oh, oh, oh no, sweetie, don’t cry, it’s alright. Here, calm down, baby boy.” The man quelled.

Peter continued to cry; however, his tears had yet to reach bawling status, and he managed to stumble out a less than necessary apology.

“I sowwy, Daddy.” He whined.

“It’s alright, little one.” Tony insisted, “Daddy isn’t mad with you. We can try again, huh?”

Peter, who had somehow managed to shove his face deep into his caregiver’s collarbone without causing any pain, was confused by the proposal.

“W- wha’?” He stuttered.

Tony made another move. “Do you wanna learn it again?”

The boy shrugged, removing his face from its resting spotto make proper eye contact. “Dunno. Was hard last time.”

The boy cutely sniffed and snuffled, his tears dying down to near obscurity as he regained his previous composure.

“It’ll be alright, baby. You said it yourself, you wanna be able to show off to your uncle Steve, eh? All you and Daddy need to do is practice the song.”

Peter smiled at the invitation. “... ‘kay.”

“Alright! Good boy! Here, I’ll go first.” Tony prompted.

And, just like so, he began to repeat. The adult went much slower than he normally would, for Peter’s sake, but still kept things at a relatively acceptable speed as he sang the song of his youth like clockwork.

“A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y and Z, now I know my ABCs… next time, won’t you sing with me?” He repeated.

Peter went wild at that, completely enthralled at the man’s skill. “Good job, Daddy!” He cheered.

“Yeah, did I do good?” Tony joked, tickling Peter’s tummy a little in order to get a rise out of the boy.

Peter giggled adorably. “Uh huh!”

“You wanna try to do it with me then, buddy?” His daddy asked, a challenge in his tone that was light enough to peak Peter’s interest.

“Try. No p’essure.” He insisted.

“No pressure.” The man agreed.

And so they went on. Very, very slowly. Tony allowed for pause where Peter needed it, not wanting for the little one to feel as though he was dragging behind, but rather that he was controlling the speed.

“A B C D E… F… G… H I J… K L M.. N O… P…”

Tony watched as his little boy struggled to think of the next letter, and couldn’t bare to let it go on any longer. 

He slowly sounded out the beginning of the subsequent letter, and was delighted as Peter caught on and began to join in with the singing.

“Q… R… S… T U V… W… X Y and Z, now I know my ABCs… next time, won’t you sing with me?”

Tony cheered this time, happy as a bird. “You did it!” He sang, picking the boy up and beginning to swing him around as he spun around the room. Peter laughed and giggled all the while, completely in his element.

“Did it!” He agreed, all smiley.

“Yes, such a smart boy!” Tony praised. The same level as he hated seeing Peter smile was always met by how much he loved to see the boy happy.

“I super smart! Like… like Daddy!” The Little continued, bouncing in his caregiver’s steadied grasp.

Tony laughed at the compliment. He had such a polite baby on his hands. “Just like Daddy, baby! Do you wanna try it all by yourself now?” He asked.

“No.”

And there had gone the luster.

“But, Petey, you can’t show Uncle Steve if you haven’t practiced by yourself.” He explained.

Peter shook his head in retaliation. “Still learnin’” he claimed.

Tony sighed in acute dissatisfaction. Why wasn’t Peter interested in learning anymore? He had read all about Peter’s academic accomplishments in middle school and passion for science in his file, and had witnessed the remnants of those attributes firsthand, but this? This wasn’t like him.

“Do you wanna give up, baby?” He asked, a little sad of tone at the thought of his boy not completing his goal.

Peter looked down. “No, jus’... jus’ not good like Buck.” He mumbled.

Oh.

Oh.

“Sweetheart, Bucky is a lot bigger than you. It’s okay to not be as good as he is. He’s been singing that song forever, I swear by it.” Tony laughed, petting the Little’s hair.

Peter hummed. “Hm.” But didn’t fight to continue the practice.

“Well, it’s almost time for a nap, are you ready?” The man asked, deciding against pushing the matter any further, less Peter get upset

“Maybe.” The boy mumbled.

His daddy chuckled at the resignation. “Yes, yes you are, sleepy butt.” He cooed, all lovey-dovey as he always was.

Peter gasped.

“Bad word!” He shouted, pointing at his daddy in a way that nearly took out the man’s eye.

“Oh, yes, right, bad word. Daddy’s sorry.”

“No, you… you don’ get any playtime now.” Peter responded haughtily.

Tony laughed again. “Alright, mister, no playtime for me, I got it.”

“Better not play while I is s’eeping.” The boy pushed again.

Always the commander, eh?

Tony elected to placate his little one for the moment, rather than lecture about politeness. “I won’t.” 

“Better.”

The cargevier carried his boy back to his nursery, quickly completing a change and depositing him into his crib for a well-deserved nap.

He couldn’t be sure, but sometimes he could hear a gentle sound tinkle in from the baby monitors that littered the rooms of the house.

“A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O… P Q R S T U… V douba-oo X Y and Z, now I knows my ABCs… next time, won’ you sing wif me?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, comments and kudos are much appreciated!!! 
> 
> Tumblr: sugar-and-spice-parker


	5. Happy Games

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things go down. Loki plays with his niece. Thor steals the shampoo.

“Can you show me the pitcher, pleeeeaaassseeeee?????”

“Alright, little one, but only if you promise to keep it a secret, yes?” Loki joked, smiling down at his favorite niece.

Only niece.

Not important.

He had just finished his morning bout of yoga, and had graciously accepted the opportunity to babysit for a few minutes whilst his brother used the shower in his high-rise studio apartment.

Apparently Thor’s own shower was broken, and Natasha needed a bath just as much as her Daddy needed to precariously shampoo his luscious locks. It only made sense for them to come over for the morning.

“Now, here you go, darling, just be careful with my phone, will you?” He instructed, guiding the girl to play gently. 

She’d been so excited to find out that he may or may not have taken screenshots of a bootleg of one of his performances before it was removed for copyright.

Thor was so insistent on not taking the Little to see her uncle perform, afraid of her not being able to stay still and quiet for a full two hours with only a fifteen minute intermission. Still, Natasha was excited at any opportunity to see her favorite uncle at work.

Only uncle.

Not important.

“You look like K-K-K…” the girl struggled, either not sure how to properly pronounce the name or struggling to remember it at all, Loki couldn’t tell.

He laughed, “Kristen Chenowith?” He guessed, figuring that was a name she might be familiar with. Wasn’t there some Disney movie with Cheno?

“Yeah! Yeah! You look like her. Pretty.” She chirped, happily pointing to the picture.

It wasn’t much, just a poorly zoomed in shot of him taking a bow after many a tear was shed for his death scene, but he would admit that the costume was helping his appearance out quite a bit.

And the makeup. Lots and lots of makeup. His pasty white skin was nowhere near stage light ready on its own.

“Who’s that?” Natasha asked, pointing to one of her uncle’s cast mates. A young girl by the name of Elinor, though she used Eli as a stage persona. More memorable.

The little thing was only nine years old. While not the youngest he had worked with by a long shot, she was remarkably talented for her age. Especially since the girl had to belt for an entire solo number almost immediately after participating in a difficult dream ballet sequence with the rest of the cast.

God, he hated dream ballets.

Loki smiled at her adorable interest. “That’s one of my friends. She plays my daughter, did you know that?” He asked.

Natasha shook her head. “She nice like Leah?” The girl asked, referring to one of her daycare friends.

“Yeah,” He agreed, “Just like Leah. Maybe more so, actually. Sweet thing. She loves coloring. Maybe you can draw her a picture, hm? I can take it to her. I know how much she enjoys getting gifts.”

“No. We play now. We play with the Kitty game, yeah?” Natasha pushed, gesturing to a Hello Kitty matching game that she had brought from home.

“Oh, of course, sweet thing.” He agreed, before remembering what Thor was always doing with the girl. “But what do we say first?” The man added.

Natasha jumped and squealed with joy. “P’ease! P’ease! Play, p’ease, Uncle Loki!”

The Neutral chuckled at her enthusiasm. “Is this a favorite of yours, I take it?” He asked.

The girl shrugged. “It’s a happy game.” She explained, as though that meant anything to anyone but herself.

“A happy game?” Loki repeated, “What’s that?”

Natasha smiled, happy for once to be the one in the know. “Brucie taught me. Happy games are games for sad days. Make… make me happy. Then not sad not more, and I can play.”

Oh. A therapy exercise. 

“Is it a sad day today?” Loki checked. Normally, the girl was pretty obvious about relapses, but she looked fine today.

“Nuh uh.” Natasha declined, “It’s a happy day. I just wanna play a happy game. We play now?”

Well, that was a crisis averted, he supposed. Still, it was concerning how adamantly she had jumped through the hoops to insist that she wasn’t having a rough day.

That was something to bring up to Thor once he came out of the shower, though.

Speaking of, where was Thor?

“Brother, your shower is like the rains of a desolate jungle in forbidden land. That purity, that spike, that-”

“How is it that every time we get together you begin to sound more and more like our mother?” Loki joked.

The man’s hair was still soaking wet, though his body seemed to have been thoroughly dry. The room suddenly smelled a touch more like Appalachian Musk than it had before.

Dirty thief had stolen his brother’s shampoo.

Which, yeah, wouldn’t be quite so bad if it wasn’t for the fact that Thor already had the better paying job and this was Loki’s only bottle of lavish hygiene material. 

Hell, it had come from Versaccie.

“If she were in this room, you know that she would be sounding far more poetic than I ever could. It’s the norseman in me, that’s all. Father used to do the same.” Thor shrugged, picking the little girl up off the ground and embracing her in a long-awaited hug.

Loki loved hearing stories about their father. He had no memories of the man, nor did he of their eldest sister, Hela, but he knew many facts about them both from the tales that his family would tell.

And pictures.

Lots and lots of pictures.

Minus the ones that were stained with blood or had a bullethole running through them, he didn’t like looking at those. He didn’t want to think about what his family had come from. 

Maybe he needed to join Thor at therapy one of these days.

“You’re joking!” Loki shouted, laughing and reaching out to slap his brother lightly.

“I’m not! I swear every man that I ever met back in Norway was secretly Chaucer in disguise.” Thor jested, shaking his Little around a tiny bit in his laughter, much to Natasha’s evident chagrin.

“To think that I’m descended from a whole line of you imbeciles.”

“We’re prophetic, they say.”

“Of what? Ragnarok? The gods of thunder and mischief coming down to entertain us? You sound like one of Mother’s stories.” Loki insisted, thinking back to the myths that the woman would recite to her two boys at bedtime.

Thor shook his head. “You’re just boring.”

“I am not!” His brother denied, “Nat, am I boring?” He checked, tickling the girl on her sides to get a rise out of her.

Natasha shook her little head wildly, pigtails flying. “Nuh uh! We were playin’!” She insisted, as if valuing playtime automatically made her uncle the best one there could ever be

“See, I cannot be boring if I possess the aptitude to play a very interesting game of flipping cards over again and again.” He agreed, looking at the girl’s daddy with a glint in his eyes.

The caregiver gasped. “Oh, you’re playing that game! Nat, I thought Daddy told you to pack a stuffie?”

“I… uh…” Natasha hesitated, suddenly pale at the approach of a lecture or time out.

“Leave the poor thing alone, she has great taste.” Loki laughed.

Well, she did.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, comments and kudos are much appreciated!!!!
> 
> Don’t forget to check out @sugar-and-spice-parker on tumblr for updates!!!


	6. Once Upon A Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The kids, though? Nobody could tell him for certain who they were.

Peter remembered very few things from before Daddy.

He remembered school, and the soft sweater and dress pants he wore every day. He was pretty sure there were multiples of them, but never was positive. 

Peter could also remember a nice lady named Karen, who always taught him new games to play. Sometimes, she would mention that he had learned them before, but he wasn’t sure what that meant.

All he cared about was playing patty cake with Karen and throwing balls at the other Littles.

He got a lot of time outs at school.

In the summer months, the air was always warm and sweltering outside, nearly crushing him in its hold. His uniform during the blazing heat was switched out for a more appropriate variant, khaki dress shorts and a polo with the school’s logo on the breast pocket. The other Littles seemed to love wearing it, but Peter just... didn’t.

He wasn’t sure why, it just felt iffy on him. The preppy style reminded him of something he couldn’t quite place, like something he had worn before…

One thing that was very important to note was that Peter had nearly no memory of his life before school.

There was a lady and a man. And two kids.

That was it.

The lady and the man, he had been told, were his Aunt and Uncle. Apparently, they stuck in his mind after the CSCs were administered.

The kids, though? Nobody could tell him for certain who they were.

The girl was always looking kind of mean in the vague recollections he would have, and the boy was always smiling and giggling. The girl, dark-haired and tomboyish, made his heart feel funny.

Peter wondered if, maybe, he had had a girlfriend before.

Girls were yucky and gross, and kissing a girl was even more yucky and gross, but somehow… it seemed right.

The boy, however, looked nice and friendly. He wore hats a lot, which Peter thought looked kind of funny.

All in all, they were both very complicated enigmas in his head, far too complicated for a Little so young to understand.

Daddy always told him that they were just memories, things he didn’t need to worry about. That the lady and the man were happy wherever they were and the two kids probably had lives of their own. It really wasn’t anything to fret on.

Peter did it anyway.

He knew he was supposed to be a good boy, to listen to his Daddy and behave. But, who could blame him? He was simply a curious cat by nature.

Which was why Peter had gotten himself into this situation. A very, very, confusing one at that.

While Daddy assumed that he was off playing hide and seek with Bear, the little boy had snuck into the master bedroom. There, in the closet, he found his detective’s clues.

Before him sat a neatly organized file, looking very professional and very not-meant-for-Littles.

So, naturally, he had been digging through it for about ten minutes now.

He hadn’t found much. The coolest thing he discovered was a picture of himself where he looked… smaller and… younger? Could it be?

Peter didn’t really understand how that worked, when he’d been the same age as long as he could remember, but he didn’t question it too much. Maybe it was just something for Caregivers to understand.

There were also a couple of forms with big words all over them. Words like “empathy” and “facilitate” littered the pages with their fancy spelling and grown-up sounds. Peter did find it weird that the one word he definitely knew looked… different.

“Peter Benjamin Parker” was how his name was written on all of them. Somehow, the words rang a bell for the boy.

That had been his name a long time ago. Well, not that long, but a couple months was a really long time when you think about it. Like, forever.

The only reason Peter even knew that it used to be his was because he remembered being called that in school. And, sometimes, the other mommies and daddies that wanted to take him home from the adoption center would call him that, too.

Which didn’t make much sense, because Daddy said that that wasn’t his name anymore. Maybe this stuff was all old?

Between a few handwritten notes that looked too swirly for Peter to make out, especially with his limited reading skills, the boy noticed a collection of photos from _before_.

There was him and other kids- kids who didn’t seem like littles at all- and him with face paint. There was him in the pool and him holding up a paper with a big, red “A” at the top.

And, in some of the pictures, there was the lady. And the man. And the kids. Happy and smiling and right there in the same room.

Peter continued shuffling through the items, when he heard Daddy calling his name.

“Peter? Where are you and Bear hiding, buddy? Come on out, it’s lunch time!”

In his hurry, the little one forgot to put away the mess he had made, and grabbed Bear hastily. He rushed out of the master bedroom, shouting “Comin’ Daddy! Comin’!” all the while.

As he sped into the kitchen, the boy noticed that his daddy was on the phone, seeming rather angry with whomever was on the opposite end.

“What? No! You don’t understand- you can’t just give them information without a good reason! I don’t care what they say, Peter’s safety comes first. Ask for pictures, text messages, letters, anything! No, no, you know what? Let me handle it. I have his case file somewhere around here. I just have to feed the little guy his lunch and then I’ll come down and handle it myself.”

His daddy roughly hung up the phone, and Peter couldn’t help but wonder what was going on.

Oh, well. It couldn’t be _that_ important.

Or, at least, not as important as spaghetti-os.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, comments and kudos are much appreciated!!!!
> 
> Tumblr: sugar-and-spice-parker


	7. Never Again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thor didn’t mind.
> 
> He never minded at all.
> 
> It was his little girl that had brought him new meaning, given him a reason to believe that times would get better.
> 
> Natasha was his savior, even if she couldn’t understand that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woot woot! I’m prepping for an audition soooo this is a teensy bit short- but it was vvvv fun to write!!!

“Daddy!” Natasha cried, grasping at her tummy as she thrashed in the bed.

Thor jumped up from his spot at the couch, running into his little girl’s nursery at full speed.

“Princess? What’s wrong?” He asked as he entered, seeing the pain across her face.

Natasha sighed, and wiggled some in her bed. “It hurts, Daddy.” She whined.

Thor pressed a gentle hand across his Little’s stomach, palpating in case of medical issue. But nothing was there… nothing.

“Do you want Daddy to call the doctor?” Thor asked. He just wanted his girl to be safe, even if nothing seemed wrong.

“Not sicky, Daddy!” The Little giggled, “Just have a bad tummy.”

Oh.

Oh.

Ohhhhh.

“Should I give my little girl a hug, then?” He asked.

“Uh huh!”

Phantom pains had been a common theme in their relationship. A denominator between their trauma, helping them relate.

Every time Natasha thought about her past, the little she could still recall, she would abruptly claim that her stomach was in pain.

It was a distraction tactic, same as her Daddy’s. She wanted something else to think about, so her body created the pain.

“Feels like a million litt’e bugs.” Natasha credited.

Thor laughed, “Is that what it feels like this time? Are they biting you?”

“Nooooo,” The girl whined, “Just feels funny. So it hurts.”

“Of course, of course.” Thor resigned.

Time passed, the two of them stared into each other's eyes in peaceful silence. Angels whispered and cherubs flew by, gracing them with the quiet.

“Daddy?” Natasha spoke up, disturbing the moment.

Thor didn’t mind.

He never minded at all.

It was his little girl that had brought him new meaning, given him a reason to believe that times would get better.

Natasha was his savior, even if she couldn’t understand that.

He hummed at her in response. “Hm?” “Do you really love me?” She questioned.

The caregiver was baffled.

His own little girl, his beautiful Little with the face of an angel and the hair of fire- had she really just asked that?

Could she have? Was she that convinced in her own doubt? Had he not noticed?

“Of course I do, princess.” He whispered, now collapsing into the bed so that he could wrap his arms around her.

Natasha pouted. “Oh.” The girl said.

Thor held her tighter and tighter by the second. “What’s brought this about?”

The girl began to cry, tears pouring out of her eyes and onto the bedsheets , leaving dark spots behind. “Just… sometimes it’s not even a sad day and... Daddy, do you p’omise?”

“I could never promise anything more, girlie. You need to believe that.” Thor told her. He was crying, too, now. 

Like a perfect pair.

Natasha looked up at her daddy in awe. “Because we’re the same?” She asked, repeating the same explanation she had heard time and time again.

Her and Thor were. They were two peas in a pod, a beautiful example of intertwined beings that had come together in the great brotherhood of man.

He smiled back at her, calming-like. “We are, baby. We are.” The man agreed.

“What if it still hurts? In… in my tummy? When you don’t anymore?” The little girl asked.

Thor didn’t have to hesitate on that question, did he?

“I’ll love you even if you never get better, darling girl. I will always love you.”

“I love you too, Daddy.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, comments and kudos are much appreciated!!!!


	8. Paper Machete (part 1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky gasped in abject horror. “You’re gonna take off my arm?!” He screamed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: this chapter contains mentions of injury and financial strain

Bucky was running so fast, nobody could have predicted it.

Well, maybe someone could have- but that’s not the point.

Of course, nothing of the sort was his own fault, no siree. He simply was too little to understand that being reckless could lead to injury. How could he?

He was just too low of an age range for playing outside. Without Daddy constantly at his side, he was a ticking time bomb.

Too bad it had to go off right when him and Steve were having a good time.

“Da-a-a-addy!” Bucky cried, grasping weakly at his caregiver’s sleeve as he laid in the hospital bed.

He didn’t understand what was going on. All the little boy had done was go climbing the tree, but his hands were too slippery and he fell out. Then his arm was bent the wrong way and Daddy started yelling.

Was he in trouble? Bucky didn’t think so. Daddy wasn’t mad at him, he was just mad at the world in general.

“God, Buck, it’s alright. It’s alright.” Steve pleaded, trying to quell his whining Little.

The boy had thrown a fit for all of the nurses that had come through, and nearly torn the house down when they took him to radiology for an X-ray.

Steve had never known his boy to be afraid of the hospital. Yet again, he had never taken Bucky to the hospital before, so that was a moot point.

“Daddy, I- I’m scared!” Bucky screamed.

Steve fretted, trying desperately to calm the Little down. “I know, bud, I know. You just need to sit tight, okay?” He pleaded.

“Okay.” Bucky agreed, settling a bit as he basked in the warmth of his Daddy’s arms.

A knock suddenly echoed through the room, and both males, Little and Caregiver, stiffened. Steve voiced his acceptance in quick resignation. His baby needed medical attention.

At the cue, a handsome doctor with raven hair came in.

“Hello,” He greeted, “I’m Dr. Strange, but you can call me Stephen if you’d like. I’ll be seeing James today.”

Steve smiled politely. “Uh, thanks. He goes by Bucky, by the way.” He informed the man.

Bucky was famously uncomfortable with having his proper first name used in any situation, especially when it came to strangers.

“Oh, yes, of course. Well, hello there, Bucky.” Stephen greeted.

Bucky smiled shyly. “H-h-h-hi.” He stammered.

“Can you tell me what happened, sweetheart?” The man asked, flipping through both the nurses’ notes and the newly printed X-rays.

The Little shrugged and hid his face behind his hands. “I fell outta the tree…”

“Oh, well that couldn’t have felt nice.” Stephen sympathized.

Steve smiled gently at the attempt, knowing the other man was obviously a neutral, having been a doctor at all. He must have come from the Littles And Pediatrics Unit.

“Nuh uh, it sucked.” Bucky laughed.

Steve warned his Little. Such rude words could send the wrong message about his parenting, he wouldn’t want Bucky acting rude in public. “Bucky…” he threatened.

The doctor laughed and passed his hand through the air to indicate that everything was fine. “Well, it’s definitely broken, the X-rays don’t lie. My only concern is picking out a cast color. Huh, what’s your pick, little man?” 

“A- a cast?” Bucky asked.

The doctor gestured to the boy’s arm. “Yeah, we’re gonna wrap some sticky stuff all over your arm and make it super stiff, then it’ll heal all up. Then, in about 3 months, we can take it off!”

Bucky gasped in abject horror. “You’re gonna take off my arm?!” He screamed.

“Nonononononono, Buck.” Steve settled, “He’s taking the cast off! Not your arm. God, that would look silly, wouldn’t it? We’d have to get you a prosthetic arm, you could be part robot!”

“Wanna be part robot. Like… Cyborg.” The boy mumbled as he settled back down.

“He’s been watching  _ Teen Titans Go! _ all weekend.” Steve explained at Stephen’s confused look.

_ God, these two names are going to be confusing. _

“I see. Do you have a favorite character?” Stephen asked Bucky.

The boy smiled widely. “Uh huh! I like Cyborg ‘cause he’s super cool! And he kinda reminds me of Daddy’s friend, Uncle Sam. All tough and stuff.”

“Well, Cyborg has blue all over him. Do you want to have a blue cast?”

“Yeah! Yeah!”

“Okay, great! We’ll get that done in just a minute here.”

The man began typing something on the nearby computer, taking a few glances down at the notes, before looking back to Steve. “Now, you  _ are _ the Caregiver, correct? You aren’t just babysitting?”

Steve stared at him strangely. “Uh, yes?”

Stephen sighed, then. “Okay, that will be a bit of an upcharge, plus another upcharge seeing as he’s a little. That settles us at about… 5 thousand. Your insurance will take 1k off of that, though, so it’s 4 thousand out of pocket at the front desk. Does that sound good?”

The Caregiver stared blankly. “You have got to be kidding me.”

_ Shotty American health care. _

“Hey, man, I don’t make the rules. It would have been 2,500 for a neutral, so they really aren’t adding too much. Maybe one day the courts will stop messing with you guys. Had a nice Caregiver come by for insulin last week that we had to turn away for lack of funds. It’s not fun for us either.”

At that, Stephen exited the room, leaving the other man to question how he would ever pay for this. He was going to need a major promotion, stat.

Maybe Tony could buy the comics company? No, that would be unethical. He’d need to have a chat with his boss, maybe offer some free art in exchange for better pay.

Bucky needed his arm taken care of, even if his Caregiver would go hungry for a week as compensation.

“Daddy?” Bucky asked.

Steve hugged his boy. “Yeah, babes?” He commented in return.

“My arm looks funny.”

Well, at least there was  _ some _ humor to the situation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, comments and kudos are much appreciated!!!! I love you all sm!!!


	9. Paper Machete part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “A Caregiver trying to sue a Neutral? That would sure be a laugh.” Steve lamented, rubbing his knee the same way he would rub his Little’s. Soothing circles, all over.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess who’s back?  
> Back again

“Doctor Strange!”

“Bucky!” The man responded cheerfully, giving the boy a big hug- or, as close to a hug as the Little could give with a stiff arm- and spinning him around in his arms.

Stephen smiled “I keep asking you to call me Stephen, buddy. You ever gonna follow through with that?” He asked. Bucky shook his head. Figures.

“How’s the arm looking?” Stephen asked as he assisted Bucky in getting onto the medical exam table. The clean paper crinkled beneath the boy’s bottom as he squirmed on top of it.

Steve laughed at his boy’s impatience. “Good, good. He’s managed well.” He commended.

The doctor chuckled a little at the vagueness pf the notion. “Ready to get it off, though, right?” He asked inquisitively, poking Steve’s arm in a joking manner.

They had both gotten fairly close after the last few months, what with how often Bucky needed to be seen for check in appointments. The little rascal never sat still, so both men were always having to corral him. It was good bonding.

“You have no idea.” He laughed.

They continued talking, doctor to caregiver. Mostly about Bucky’s health. His comfort level in the cast, his reactions to touch around the arm. Occasionally, Bucky would be asked for his own input, but Steve was the main source of information.

About half way through , the man broke. “Th- this won’t cost a whole bunch again?

Stephen began chuckling, a characteristic Steve liked about the man. Good humor could bring some light to a dark situation. “No, no. This appointment was completely covered in your initial payment. Don’t worry, we aren’t trying to put you out on the streets here.”

“Kind of feels like it.” He responded.

“Did you end up getting that promotion you talked about at our last check in?” Stephen inquired, making a few notes from the conversation on his clipboard, before accidentally breaking the pencil and giving a funny face to Bucky, who laughed at the doctor’s expense.

“Sort of.” Steve gave. “I got a new position with higher pay, but it wasn’t really a promotion to speak of. Plus, it’s only temporary. I just draw for the cover art now, and once my financial issues are fully renounced by the company’s terms, I’ll be back to my old pay.”

The doctor cringed. “That’s rough.” He commented. Steve only responded with a mere “Capitalism.” and went on glancing around the office.

“When will they consider you good to go?” Stephen asked. 

This wasn’t really a doctor-patient sort of moment anymore. They weren’t acting as professional companions, mere acquaintances through the boy on the exam table’s woes. They were friends.

Steve rolled his eyes at Stephen’s curiosity. “Should be about 3 months from today. Enough time, I suppose, but if my rent gets jacked up again...” The man trailed off.

“You could always take your landlord to court, then. I mean, assuming your rent contract has a set number listed, he can’t just hike it without a new contract being made, and that would take months to get your whole district on board and signed, so-” 

“A Caregiver trying to sue a Neutral? That would sure be a laugh.” Steve lamented, rubbing his knee the same way he would rub his Little’s. Soothing circles, all over. 

Stephen sighed. “I get it.”

But he  _ didn’t,  _ though. That was the whole issue. Neutrals always did that. They claimed that they understood when they couldn’t even begin to relate to such issues. Steve was just happy to have the privilege he did. Being a Caregiver, he at least had some notoriety, some individual rights of his own.

If Bucky or Natasha or Peter ever wanted to defend themselves, they wouldn’t even make it to the courts. They were objects if anything. Less rights were given to Littles than the actual children that their minds emulated. 

For love’s sake, most neutrals forgot Littles even existed. If they didn’t have any connection to them, they were like an abstract concept. Out of sight, out of mind.

It was sick.

“Alright, buddy. You ready to get this thing off?” Stephen asked Bucky, tapping the cast.

“Mhm!”

-

“Daddy, look! Look!”

Steve smiled at Bucky’s antics. The little boy was pointing excitedly at his naked arm, staring all the while. “Yeah, Buck! I forgot what your arm looked like!” He joked.

Bucky giggled. “Silly Daddy.” “Am I?” Steve asked. Both makes laughed at their little banter, Stephen even joining in as he watched it unfold.

“It’s been a pleasure having Bucky, Steve.”

“The pleasure is all mine, please.”

“We’ll see.”

“Say bye, Buckaroo.” Steve asked, stopping in the doorway of the office so that his Little could properly exit.

The boy turned around, quickly waving his hand and cried his own interpretation of the command. “Bye, Buckaroo!”

“No-”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, comments and kudos are much appreciated!!!!!!


	10. Meeting The Parents

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The male held it up for the older man to see. “Here, this is from forever ago. We spent the night at my house, and Peter totally forgot the word for a sleeping bag, so I took this while he stumbled over trying to think of the word.”
> 
> Sure enough, it was glaringly Peter. The chubby cheeks and wild chocolate hair all matched the same boy that Tony had seen only a mere hour ago at home.

“Hello.”

“Hello.” MJ greeted, shaking the man’s hand with force. She had her own opinions on this guy, but wouldn’t be airing them now. That was more of an internal conflict.

He smiled forcibly, she could tell. “Tony Stark.” He greeted.

“We’re well aware.” MJ confirmed, matching his tone with the same harsh show of teeth.

“I’d assume such. And you?” Tony asked.

The girl smiled. “Michelle Jones. This is Ned Leeds.” She gestured, “But I’d assume you already knew that.”

He grinned again. “That I did.”

The girl and the boy looked around the little conference room, taking into account the harsh modern lighting and Stark Industries insignia that garnished every item. It all screamed money. They remembered Peter mentioning that his family couldn’t afford to feed all 3 of them every day, or that his lunch account was empty.

They hoped he was well fed now.

“Well, let’s not dilly dally, get to it. You claim you know Peter.” Tony sighed, his glance hard and stiff.

Ned smiled gently. “We do. He went to middle school with us.” He explained.

“You and about 700 other people trying to get a look at my baby. That’s not much for me.” Tony seethed. He was tired of all of this, that much was clear.

“Peter and I used to go out. His last name was Parker at the time. Not much went with it, we weren’t old enough to really do a full-out date, but we called ourselves boyfriend and girlfriend. I had already made plans for our wedding. He had to, though he wouldn’t admit it. I saw the Pinterest board.” MJ contended, her face slightly solemn in the face of the giant.

Tony chuckled. “That’s a sweet story, kid. It’s also easy to make up.” He told her.

Suddenly, Ned sat up. “I remember this one time, Peter tore up his whole Star Wars poster collection. He was super mad at Ben, because he’d been grounded for sneaking out to get ice cream, and then got grounded again for getting upset. He cried for, like, weeks.” He said.

Tony smiled genuinely, the first time either young adult had ever seen such a face on the man. “See? He knows how to tell a story so outlandish I can actually see where that might be my Little. Do you have any pictures?”

“Uh- one second.” MJ stuttered, but Ned was a mile ahead of her. The same picture that had been on his lockscreen for years.

The male held it up for the older man to see. “Here, this is from forever ago. We spent the night at my house, and Peter totally forgot the word for a sleeping bag, so I took this while he stumbled over trying to think of the word.”

Sure enough, it was glaringly  _ Peter _ . The chubby cheeks and wild chocolate hair all matched the same boy that Tony had seen only a mere hour ago at home.

“Cute.” Tony grinned, laughing a little as he pointed to the boy’s exasperated face, red and flustered as he sat frozen in the light configuration.

MJ finally got her own photo pulled up. “Oh, and this one’s from the yearbook. All 3 of us somehow tied for first place at the prodigal exhibition, so we got to take it together.” She explained.

Tony raised an eyebrow at that. “He was a prodigy?” He asked.

“Oh, yeah. Top of the class. They… they didn’t tell you that?” She stumbled.

Tony chuckled. “The files aren’t that descriptive, sweetheart. There was some mention of intellect, but nothing of that notion. Then again, we’re talking about the same baby who got his own case file out of the drawer and started shuffling through the papers earlier today, so I should have guessed that. You a neutral?”

“Yeah. I’m, uh, I’m studying to be a lawyer.” MJ spoke, hoping the intentions of her practice were clear. Most people could tell. Whether or not that had to do with the “CG/LITTLE RIGHTS ARE HUMAN RIGHTS” button on her jacket was up in the air.

The man smiled. “Good, good. You too?” He asked Ned.

“No, no. I’m gonna be a biomedical engineer.” The boy exclaimed. Tony laughed at the excitement.’“That’s nice.” He said.

Tony finally truly stared at the two of them, abruptly recognizing both as the children from some of Peter’s old photos. 

He sighed. “Okay. I’m convinced. So, if you two want to sit tight for a few weeks, my lawyers will contact you. There will be a background check and then a bit of paperwork. Just some NDAs, general contracts and such. All for Peter’s safety. I’m sure you can help Mr. Leeds to understand the terminology, Miss Jones?”

“Of course. And, please, call us Ned and MJ.” She requested.

The man laughed. “Well, then, I’m Tony.”

He stood up, gathering the files and photographs he had brought as a just in case, and walking towards the door. “You two wait for further instruction. Once everything is finalized, you can see Peter.”

“Does… does he remember us?” Ned asked.

Tony hesitated for a moment, thinking it over.

“He babbles about two kids sometimes. A funny boy and a pretty girl. I’m sure you can connect those dots on your own. But, he’s a Little. He doesn’t really remember anything, that’s part of the CSCs. It’s all too blurry to make a clear memory. So, don’t hassle him.”

“Got it.”

“Good.”

Time passed, before the man opened the door and took his exit, calling out a simple phrase behind him. “I’ll see you later, kids.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, comments and kudos are much appreciated!!!!


	11. Sad Day Blues

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was in that moment Thor knew.
> 
> He knew, he knew, he knew, he knew.
> 
> Today was now a sad day.

“Where’s my little girl hiding?”

“Not hidin’!” Natasha giggled, despite the fact that she was currently crouched down behind her Daddy’s bed.

Thor chuckled at the little girl’s adamance. “Oh, you aren’t, huh? This isn’t Hide and Seek? Well then, I guess I don’t need to be seeker...” He trailed off.

Natasha gasped loudly at the insinuation that her Daddy wouldn’t play the game with her. “You gotta find me!” She complained.

“Why?” The man laughed. She only groaned in response, making her hiding spot extremely obvious. “We’re playing Hide ‘nd Seek!” “But you’re not hiding!”

“Nevermind!” The girl whined, giggling herself silly again. At least she was having fun, that was all Thor ever wanted.

The man began temptatiously poking around the room, opening doors and peaking under rugs as though he had been stumped by the little girl’s spot.

“Gotcha!” He screamed all of a sudden, plucking the girl up from behind and hoisting her over his shoulder.

Natasha giggled wildly. “Daddy!” She squealed.

“There’s my princess!” Thor cooed, wrapping his arms gently around her bodice, keeping her perched in that spot, careful not to be too touchy with his girl.

“Can we watch Barbie now?”

Thor crooned. “What do you say?” He commanded gently, always expecting good manners from his angel. She was a smart girl, way smarter than most Littles, but somehow manners always fell short in that sweet little head of hers.

“Please?” Natasha added politely.

Thor smiled. “Good job, pretty girl. Of course we can.” He cooed. The man slowly lowered his girl off of his shoulder and onto the couch, fluffing some pillows to place behind her back for support, and fetching a kiddie glass of strawberry milk.

When the Caregiver returned to his girl, he noticed that her face had paled a little, his absence clearly having worried her. Natasha perked up when she saw her Daddy, though, and seemed to grow calmer. 

Handing his little girl the glass, Thor was careful to remind her to use two hands. The Little followed his lead, already worrying about not getting milk all over her pretty white dress. 

Of course, though, that worry was completely founded when the smooth plastic slipped from the girl’s hands.

“Natasha!” The man cried, scooping up his girl in an attempt to calm her down as sobs began to come pouring out of the girl’s throat.

“Baby? You okay?” He begged, rocking Natasha gently in his arms.

The man pouted childishly, ticking the girl’s sides in a feeble attempt to get her to perk up. She didn’t.

It was in that moment Thor knew.

He knew, he knew, he knew, he _knew_.

Today was now a sad day.

The man made a mental note to add this to the girl’s chart. Bruce would probably insist on a change in medication, which would be hell. The poor little angel never took well to different meds.

He took Natasha into her room, setting her down on the special rug and beginning to change her into a new outfit. In retrospect, the white dress was only for special events for a reason. Thor shouldn’t have given in and let her wear it today. His fault. “Come on, princess. Let’s get up.”

They continued like that for awhile, Thor talking as Natasha sat quietly, a black cat wandering through the streets by their apartment building. 

“Can you talk to Daddy?” No response.

“Natasha?” No response.

Thor sighed. “Here, let’s do something fun. Wanna watch Barbie now? Huh? We haven’t seen Rapunzel in awhile. What about that magic paintbrush?” He asked.

The girl smiled a little, nodding her head.It wasn’t a resounding yes, but Thor took it anyway. “Okay. Let’s get it on for you. Can we share a seat?” The man asked her.

Natasha nodded again. “Thank you, such a good girl.” Her Daddy cooed. “Want cuddles, babes?” The Little smiled, and nodded once more before reaching out to Thor, giving him a quick tap on his nose.

“Aren’t you the cutest!” Thor shouted, cooing gently as he began tickling the girl for the third time in the last hour. “Huh? What’s Daddy doing? What’s Daddy doing?”

“Da-a-a-ddy!!” The girl laughed, giggles cascading past her plump pink lips. “Oh! Look who’s talking!” Thor smiled.

Natasha shook her head wildly. “Stah-ah-ah-ah-hhhp!!!!” She demanded. Thor listened to her. “Okay, see? I stopped.”

“Thank you.” The girl sighed, catching her breath.

Thor chuckled. “All better now?” “Getting there.” Natasha conceded.

“That’s all we need.” Thor told her. “Good girl.”

“Good Daddy.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, comments and kudos are much appreciated!!!!


	12. Tantrums And Time Outs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter continued to cry. “But- Dadaaaaa!” He whined, face coming out of the corner already.
> 
> Tony tutted, “No, Petey pie. Time out.” He instructed again.
> 
> The boy cried more, kicking lightly against the wall. “Daddy hate Pe’er.” He mumbled.

Tony was very proud of the fact that his baby boy was well-behaved, thank you very much.

Peter didn’t kick, didn’t hit, he barely even cried. Whereas most Littles spent the first weeks after adoption throwing tantrum after tantrum, breaking precious china in the attempt to test their caregiver’s limits. Peter had simply cuddled the whole time, experimenting with his new toys and basking in Daddy’s attention.

Apparently that did  _ not  _ mean Tony was safe from having his limits tested.

“Bubs? Where are you?” The man called, searching for the fussy baby that had run off during his change. Peter didn’t even have a new diaper on yet, he had simply booked it the minute he was told they were going to town.

A tiny voice echoed out from behind the couch. “Nuh!” Peter squealed.

Tony chuckled, rolling his eyes as he approached the disembodied voice with temptation. “Come on, Petey pie, we’re gonna go clothes shopping! Don’t you want some new outfits?” He cooed.

Suddenly, the voice escalated. “No try on, Daddy! No!” The boy cried.

The man came up behind his Little, lifting the boy from behind and settling him on his hip. “There you are!” Tony chirped. Peter continued to whine. “No try on!”

“You have to try on the clothes, Peter. We wanna make sure they fit, right?” Tony asked, brushing some hair out of the boy’s eyes.

Peter pouted. “Nuh-uh!”

“ _ Peter _ .” Tony scolded.

The boy settled a little, his eyes flashing as Tony could see the cogs turning in his head, round and round as each little nerve sparked and signaled the next. “Daddy, I wanna nap.” He claimed.

The man chuckled at his little boy’s attempt. “You do?” He asked, feigning surprise as he played along. His boy was so silly when he wanted something.

“Uh huhhhhh!” Peter agreed sweetly, nuzzling into his daddy’s neck like a little koala bear. He really didn’t want to try on clothes, huh?

Tony chuckled, shaking his head a little at the hilarity. “Well, that’s very sweet of you, baby. You can take a nap in the car on our way to the mall.” He told him, already walking back to the nursery so that he could get a fresh diaper onto his baby.

Peter screamed. “No!”

The man stopped dead in his tracks. “What about you wanting a nap?” He patronized lightly. “No nap! Not tiwed!”

Tony laughed. “But you said you wanted a nap!” He reminded.

“Want  _ bed,  _ Daddy!”

He grew confused at that, what game was his baby playing at now? “You just want your crib? Why’s that?” He asked.

Peter smiled, basking in his own success. “No try on.” He informed his daddy, happily grinning under the impression that he had won.

Tony glared. “Peter.” He warned.

“Daddy make Pe’er try on and it  _ hurts _ !” The boy complained.

Tony laughed at the boy’s insistence. “It does not hurt you to try on clothes, Peter.” He explained. The boy was being dramatic, that much was clear, but Tony had been told in every single one of those Caregiver classes in school that letting a Little get the upper hand only gives them power over you.

“Does!” Peter accused.

Tony gave a gentle smack to the boy’s behind, a warning sign. “You’re reaching tantrum territory, little boy.” He chastised.

Peter wiggled in his spot. “Don’ care!”

Tony stiffened.

Peter was being  _ very _ naughty. And, for such a good little boy, this was well past the acceptable range. 

“That’s it, come on, go go go!” Tony called out as he wrangled the Little into a more malleable position.

“No!” Peter screamed.

Tony lifted the boy over his shoulder, carrying him over to his special time out chair. For such a young Little, Peter was usually very well behaved. He hadn’t even used the chair yet, but he knew what it was for.

Big, bold letters spelled out  **_TIME OUT_ ** across the back of the wooden number, painted in red to

draw attention over the dark stain of the seat, which was permanently sat facing the corner of the room. 

Next to it sat a matching stool, 

It was meant to make Peter feel scrutinized, despite how well Tony understood that the baby would never like that all too much.

Still, wasn’t the point to discourage him from being naughty again?

“Yes! You’re being fussy for no reason, so Daddy is gonna let you calm down in the corner. Nose against the wall now, baby.”

Peter continued to cry. “But- Dadaaaaa!” He whined, face coming out of the corner already.

Tony tutted, “No, Petey pie. Time out.” He instructed again.

The boy cried more, kicking lightly against the wall. “Daddy hate Pe’er.” He mumbled.

Tony gasped. “Peter Anthony Stark, don’t you dare accuse your caregiver of something like that  _ ever _ again!”

“But-” Peter started, only to be quickly interrupted by the boisterous sounds of Daddy’s anger and disappointment.

“No buts, nose in the corner, quiet.” Tony insisted, before adding, “You can sit for twenty minutes now.”

“Daddy!”

“Do you want to make it twenty five?” He asked, too hell bent on punishing the boy now that Peter was well past the line of acceptability.

The Little began to cry from his spot in the chair. “No-ho-ho-ho!” He whined.

Tony grabbed Peter’s chin, forcibly moving his head so that he would be facing the corneras instructed. “Then sit in time out like a good boy and it’ll be over.”

The twenty minutes went by slowly, gruelingly so. Tony, admittedly, wasn’t sure what to do with himself now that he didn’t have a baby in his arms.

Still, time moved on, and soon enough the timer rang out, shaking the stool more than enough to catch a blind man’s attention, though Tony could hear it loud and clear.

“Peter?” He asked.

The boy didn’t move. “You can come out now, baby.” He promised.

Peter continued to weep, mumbling out a simple apology as he buried his face into his Caregivers neck. “Sowwy, Dada.” He cried out.

“It’s okay, my little prince. You’re forgiven. Come along, now, and we can still get you some new clothes.” Tony promised, carrying his Little off towards the nursery again, hoping to fully complete the change.

Peter pulled his face out of its hiding spot, hopefully smiling up at his Daddy. “Pir’ate?” He requested.

The man chuckled. “You wanna look like a pirate, baby?” He asked.

“Mm-hm!”

Tony smiled lovingly. “Okay, maybe we can snag up a shirt with stripes if you behave while we try on.” He promised. 

The boy cheered. “Pe’er be good.” “Thank you, baby boy.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, comments and kudos are much appreciated!!!!!!! xoxo


	13. Attachment Issues

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The man took a deep breath, and gently grabbed ahold of Bucky’s hand. “Daddy got demoted, sweetheart.” He said.

Bucky did not have attachment issues.

What? He didn’t.

Swear it.

Okay, he totally had attachment issues.

But Daddy was always leaving to go to work, and then he’d have to go to daycare  _ all day _ ! It was torture.

Sometimes, he got to see his friends. What little he had, that was.

Clint was the coolest, but that was just because he was actually Bucky’s age and not some dumb baby. His daddy worked with Bucky’s daddy, which meant they got to have play dates sometimes when their daddies weren’t at work.

Then there was Harley, who was actually just a little bit older than Peter. That’s not saying Peter is below Bucky’s level, but he wouldn’t exactly say it’s a good thing to be in the presence of another Little that’s that young.

There was a reason Uncle Tony always had to be in the room when him and Peter were together. And why Bucky wasn’t allowed to touch a baby’s pacifier ever again.

But other than that? There were barely any cool Littles at daycare! He was always all alone, and missing Daddy like crazy.

“Baby?” Daddy asked. Bucky shot up from where he had been playing in the corner of the big kid playroom with Clint. “Mhm, Daddy?” He responded.

His Caregiver smiled. “Bucky, you gotta say your goodbyes to Clint now. It’s a big day of cooking dinner and baking treats ahead of us. We’re gonna have pie for dessert tonight!” The man cheered.

Bucky glared at that. He wasn’t stupid. Daddy  _ never  _ gave him pie unless there was something up. Daddy never even made dessert unless that was the case.

Something wasn’t right about this, and Detective Bucky was on the case.

“Why are we makin’ pie?” He interrogated, ignoring his Daddy’s request to take the man’s hand.

His Daddy stiffened uncharacteristically. Bucky knew that his Daddy had wanted to be in the military of the navy or something before, but he was always so silly it just felt weird to see him be that stoic.

Like a stranger in Daddy’s body.

_ What’s up with Daddy? _ he pondered. “Well, baby, maybe we’ll talk about it while we bake, huh?” Daddy claimed.

Bucky made his exit, shouting a fast “Bye, Clint! See you tomorrow!” as his Caregiver guided him out by the hand, lifting him up up up and into Daddy’s arms once they got to the parking lot.

He looked at Daddy once more. “No. We only do pie when something is wrong.” He reminded. Maybe the man had forgotten all about the desert rule.

Bucky was  _ not  _ about to turn down free pie. Unless it wasn’t really free, and it came with bad news. Which was usually the case.

“Buck…” The man trailed off.

The boy shifted his eyes. “Who’s dead?” He asked.

“What? Nobody’s dead!”

Bucky groaned and rolled his eyes, kicking the back of Daddy’s sear in agitation.“Then why are we gettin’ pie?!”

“Baby, stop it.” The man repeated. “We’re gonna eat pie! You should be happy!” He chirped.

The boy whined. “Not gonna be happy if you don’t wanna tell me why!” He explained. 

Why was his daddy so dense some days?

“Buck, I have some news. That’s all.” Daddy claimed, adjusting the steering wheel and beginning to pull out of the parking lot, into the big big world.

Bucky only pouted more. “Hmph.”

-

“Alright, do you want this slice?” Daddy asked, offering up the smaller of the two that he had just cut.

Bucky shook his head and pouted. “No, that one.” He insisted, pointing directly towards the slice that his Daddy had almost taken for himself.

Daddy chuckled at Bucky’s insight. “Okay, the bigger slice it is. I see you, mister.”

Once he had been served, and there was sufficient time for the pie to cool to Daddy’s likings, Bucky began to eat.

He looked up. “Daddy?” He asked, “What’s the bad news?”

“Who said it was  _ bad  _ news?” Daddy responded, seeming mildly offended at the accusation. Bucky only shrugged. “It is.” He informed.

How did Daddy not know that pie news is always bad news? What was up with him?

The man took a deep breath, and gently grabbed ahold of Bucky’s hand. “Daddy got demoted, sweetheart.” He said.

“What?” Bucky asked, aghast.

His Daddy shrugged openly, already giving calming circles and happy smiles that were  _ fake _ to calm his boy down. “They found another guy for the job. A, uh, a Neutral, honey.” He grimaced “Hours and workload will be the same, but my pay won’t be as good. So, I’ll be getting another job soon.”

“And you’ll be gone more.” Bucky assumed.

His daddy smiled down at him sadly. “Yeah. I will.” He agreed. “I go to work with you?” Bucky asked.

The man laughed. “If I can find a job that lets me bring my favorite little guy to work with me, you bet.” He promised.

Pinkies interlocked in a promise that would not be fulfilled, Bucky wasn’t stupid, and he wasn’t a dumb baby like Peter or Harley that couldn’t even say their ABCs by themselves. He was a big boy, and his Caregiver needed him.

“So, I hafta go to daycare more?” He checked.

Daddy nodded with grim hesitancy. “Uh huh.”He continued quickly, “Bud, I’m sorry. You know I am.”

Bucky felt his face grow hot and angry. “But I love you!” He shouted. “I love you too!” His daddy responded. “Then how- how come you  _ leave me _ ?” “Bucky, you know I don’t want to!”

The boy’s upset picked up as the heat grew stronger and stronger by the second. “D-Da-Dadd- Dadd-  _ DADDY _ !”

“Oh, bear…” The Caregiver cooed.

“How about I give Uncle Tony a call, hm? You wanna have a playdate tomorrow? Ease your mind?” Daddy asked. Bucky screamed. “No-ho-ho-ho!” The man sighed. “Maybe Clint?” He attempted.

“Nuh-uh!” The boy pouted.

His Daddy rubbed his back gently. “Oh, bubs. I can’t help you any more than you let me.”

“Tell the mean work people that- that I wanna see you.” Bucky explained.

Tears began welling up in his eyes, making his shirt turn stained with dark spots and salty lines form down his face.

_ drip _

_ drip _

_ drip _

His Daddy rushed closer, giving him a hug that was  _ so so so so so so _ big. It rivaled Uncle Thor’s, and that was saying something. “You can see me, honey!”

“Just a little bit!” Bucky whined, “And on weekends. Daddy, We needa be t’gether always!”

His Caregiver sighed and rubbed his hand over the boy’s arm, a soothing motion. “I’ll call the recruiter tomorrow, hun. Maybe we’ll get lucky and I can find a good job that pays enough for both of us to live off of just that. Okay?”

“Okay.”

Daddy grinned down at him, a big, smiley grin that made Bucky’s insides all happy and squirmy. “And if it takes a little longer than that, can you promise me you’ll be good at daycare?”

Bucky smiled. “I try.” He chirped.

He knew his Daddy wouldn’t find that dream job. But, maybe he could learn to like daycare a little more.

For Daddy’s sake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, comments and kudos are much appreciated!!!!


	14. Turn Back Time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THIS CHAPTER IS A FLASHBACK!!! We may pick back up where it leaves off with a part 2 if people are interested, but it’s mostly to help with lore and such.

Peter sat in the cold, hard doctor’s office chair.

There were no happy pictures with dumb inspirational quotes on them, no decorations at all. Nothing that felt familiar.

He had always feared this day. He didn’t want to be 13 yet. He wanted to  _ live _ , dammit!

But the clock kept ticking by with a menacing click as each second fled and he drew closer and closer to when the doctor would enter to perform his test.

May and Ben were all the way back in the lobby of Queens Branch Classification Office #17. They had given him a kiss each, and a big group hug, but it wasn’t enough. He wasn’t ready to be alone.

“Mr. Parker, hello there.” Peter heard a woman’s voice say.

He turned his head, only then noticing that the doctor had already entered. Just his luck he’d get a  _ girl _ . Which was stupid because the only girls that he had ever been alone in a room with were Aunt May and MJ. And probably his mom at some point.

MJ… he couldn’t wait to see her at school tomorrow. She’d promised to wear his favorite chapstick of hers. Because, obviously, they were in a very serious relationship. Almost as serious as the high schoolers.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you.” The lady said. Her name tag read “Dr. Maureen Michaels”, which was kind of funny. A fellow alliteration baby.

He’d never liked that part of his name.  _ Peter Parker _ , it sounded like a character in an Archie comic.

“Nice to meet you too.” He smiled politely.

The woman returned it, a perfect american gesture. “Well, then. Are you ready?” She asked, already sitting down at the desk before he had even answered.

Peter shrugged apprehensively.

He wasn’t. He really really wasn’t.

If Peter was being honest, he wasn’t even sure what was so concerning. He was obviously going to test Neutral. His parents, grandparents, and great-grandparents had all come from families of 100% Neutral classifications. Not a Caregiver or Little in sight.

But something always felt off about that. Like something didn’t line up for  _ him _ . Like he wasn’t the same as everyone else. Almost as if that strange penchant he had for hugs and cuddles was a sign of something bigger.

“No,” He admitted, “but I can’t very well come back tomorrow.” The woman leaned over and rubbed his knee in a way that made his too-small-for-his-age 13 year old body twitch. “Good bravery. You’ll do fine.” She quelled.

He wasn’t going to do fine. He was going to be sick. Every fiber of Peter’s being screamed at him to lie. Tell her his friend had the flu and he thinks he may have gotten it. Come up with something, anything so that the state would allow him another week.

But Peter blanked.

The woman took in a quick breath, then began her spiel. “Now, Peter. First we’ll do the physical, then the written test. Alright? Just to keep your nerves down.” She claimed.

_ Right,  _ Peter thought _ , like my nerves are gonna go down just because I did the physical first. That’s not even the hard part! _

“Yes, ma’am.” He nodded.

Dr. Michaels gave him one last genuine grin. “Such nice manners for a boy your age.” She pointed out.

The boy smiled drearily again. “Anyway, for this part I’m going to need you to strip down and then we’ll get your height, weight, and some strength and endurance stats. Got it?” She asked.

Peter gave a dutiful nod. “Yes.”

“Alright, kid. Let’s get started.”

-

The pressure cuff was removed from the boy’s arm as he let out a deep sigh. “Thank you, Peter. That will be all.” Dr. Michaels told him, “I’ll go have your numbers run through with the math nerds, yeah?”

Peter held back a groan at the clear attempt at a joke.  _ He _ was a math nerd. And a science nerd. And pretty much an everything nerd, if he was being honest.

“Sure.” The boy agreed instead, shifting uncomfortably atop the exam table.

His mind blanked for those quick few minutes, a simple moment that he knew would fill the only time he had left of his old life.

“Hey, kiddo.” A new doctor introduced, wandering in through the door. He didn’t have a nametag, but he was followed by a younger woman who was holding a plastic wrapped syringe, pre-filled.

Peter’s dosage.

The boy smiled warily. “Hi.” He greeted. The doctor smiled back. “So, it looks like you’re a Little. Doesn’t that sound neat?” He explained.

The room stood still, and Peter felt a small crack in his world grow and shift, shaking hard until it broke open. Pieces shattered like glass around him, the very fabric of the universe disassembling as his brain struggled to comprehend the words.

“A… A… I’m a  _ what _ ?”

“A Little! Oh, you’ll be so much happier once this is all over with, buddy.” The woman said, “Here, are you okay with us doing the shot right now or would you rather take a breather first?” 

Peter stammered. “I- I can’t be a Little! I’m an honors student for crying out loud!” He exclaimed.

The doctor laughed a little bit at the claim. “Middle school honors aren’t worth a lot, kid. Plus, smarts don’t matter much after today, huh?” He prodded.

_ Dick _ .

“I don’t like needles.” The boy pleaded in a last ditch effort.

The man smiled gently, reaching out to run his hands through Peter’s hair and  _ not even asking first _ . “It’s alright, a lot of Littles have that issue.” He chastised. “But-”

“Ah, ah, ah. Calm down. We’ll get you feeling much better in just a bit. Georgina, be a dear and help Pete here out.” The man instructed.

Peter struggled as the woman grabbed him from behind, already swabbing down a spot on his right arm. The arm he  _ used _ to write with. “No! No! Stop!” Peter screamed.

The lady shushed him gently. “Shhh, it’s alright. In and out. Just breathe.”

As the syringe was plunged into Peter’s arm, and the Classification Stabilizing Chemicals were beginning to run through his bloodstream, the boy felt an overwhelming sense of nausea and weakness wash over him. “F-feel… sick.”

“It’s quite a shock to the body, yeah.” The doctor smiled snidely, “Georgina here will get you dressed for transfer while you’re momentarily incapacitated.” He assured. Which wasn’t comforting at all.

Peter put forth his best effort to sit up, though his muscles seemed to be too weak to handle the movement. “But, my-” The woman, Georgina, interrupted him. “We’ll be giving your family all the information they’re allowed, honey. Don’t you worry ‘bout a thing.”

At that moment, Peter felt Georgina lift his body into her arms, as he watched the doctor carry his phone and wallet back to the lobby where May and Ben were awaiting the news. Awaiting  _ good _ news, that is.

He was so screwed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If y’all want a part 2 to this, just comment below or send me an ask on tumblr, I’m definitely interested in expanding on this.


	15. Making Friends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The older boy glared. “You’re evil.” He accused.
> 
> But the boy simply smiled. “I get gummy worm at snacktime.” He reminded.

Bucky was under strict instruction from Daddy to be nice to Peter today.

Which was redundant anyway. Peter got  _ everything  _ he wanted all the time. Bucky always had to be nice. Still, this was a very important job, because Peter was going to start daycare today.

He hadn’t been given too much information. All Bucky really knew was that Uncle Tony had to go back to work now that his Caregiver’s Leave was over. That meant he wasn’t allowed to stay home and take care of Peter all day anymore, according to Daddy.

How come Uncle Tony couldn’t just pay them to let him stop working forever? He was soooo rich!

Anyway, now Peter got to make Bucky’s time at daycare a little more interesting… and probably a little worse in some aspects. It wasn’t that Bucky didn’t like his cousin, on the contrary, but they got in fights way more than they played nicely.

What was he supposed to do? Let a stupid baby run the show while he did whatever he wanted. No no no no no. Bucky would much rather get a timeout than let Peter be in charge. Ever.

So, when he saw Uncle Tony wander in about a quarter of the way through his time for the day, Bucky was more than ecstatic to leave where he and Clint were tossing a ball back and forth. 

“Hi, Peter!” Bucky greeted, running over to his cousin but stopping where the fence prohibited him from entering the check-in spot.

Peter looked Bucky up and down warily, still pinned to Uncle Tony’s hip as the younger boy desperately attempted to snuggle closer.

Before much more could be said, Bucky watched as his Uncle leaned over the edge and sat Peter down inside the confines of the daycare. Both boys kept a keen eye until the man was all the way out the door, but tears continued to form in Peter’s eyes.

Bucky sighed. “Peter, come here, you come play.” He insisted, grabbing the boy’s hand and dragging him along as he was pulled to his feet.

“Daddy!” Peter screamed.

The older boy rolled his eyes. First timers were always so whiny. Why couldn’t Peter just see that his Daddy was gone and no crying was going to make him suddenly reappear? Unless you got sick or hurt, there was no seeing your Caregiver until pickup for any of the Littles.

He continued in his stride. “Your Daddy’s gone already, come on.” The Little pushed.

But Peter onky weeped more, now struggling to stop Bucky from pulling his arm. “Gotta see Daddy!” The baby cried.

“No, Peter. Come on.” Bucky seethed.

As they wandered farther and farther from the fence, Peter seemed to forget about his Daddy as he took notice of the many toys and other Littles that were engaging his eyes. “We play?” The boy questioned.

Bucky giggled. “Yeah! Here, I show you off to Clint. He’s cool.” He promised, stopping his stride even though he was only three steps away from where Clint was mindlessly stacking legos atop each other as he waited for Bucky’s return.

“Cool.” Peter echoed.

The older boy smiled. “Uh huh, and then you can meet Harley. He’s a baby like you.” He explained. Peter huffed. “Am not baby.” The baby complained, which was very babyish of him indeed.

Glares were exchanged silently. Bucky broke the silence with a clear tone. “Yuh-huh.” He claimed, “You and Harley can play with the baby toys and me and Clint can play with the big kid toys, okay?” He said, no room left for argument.

If him and Peter got in a fight before their first day at daycare together was even up, Bucky would be in for one long spanking tonight.

“Hmph!” The younger one sounded.

Bucky guided Peter towards Clint, stopping when the eldest stomped his foot for his friend’s attention. Clint jumped, and looked up to where Bucky had returned. “This him?” The boy asked.

The Little smiled widely. “Uh huh!” He agreed.

Clint glared accusingly, scanning over Peter’s body with a patronizing gaze that made the baby shift uncomfortably. “He doesn’t have red hair.” Clint noted.

“No, I told you it’s brown.” Bucky groaned. “Peter, this is Clint. Now you say hi to him.” He explained to his cousin.

Peter stumbled and stared gapingly at Clint, following the directions with little comprehension. “Hi.” The boy mimicked.

After a moment, Peter pointed towards the other young boy, a small one with dirty blonde hair and a sharp jawline. “He pretty.” He voiced.

“Yeah, that’s Harley.” Bucky informed, “You need to meet him still. One second.” He said. Quickly, the boy snapped for Harley’s attention. “Harley, this is my cousin, Peter. He’s a baby, like you.”

Peter whined. “Notta baby!” He fussed.

The older boy rolled his eyes. Babies were always so pouty. “You two can play, okay?” He instigated, pushing Peter to sit down criss cross applesauce across from where a shyly smiling Harley was stacking blocks.

“Bucky?” Peter called out.

“Uh huh?” The boy responded.

“You go away now?”

Bucky scoffed. “No. I need to watch you. Daddy said that your Daddy was scared to leave you by yourself at daycare so I gotta be the protector, okay?” He explained.

Peter glared half-attendedly at Bucky with malice. “He not my fwiend.” The boy informed Harley.

Harley giggled. “Bucky nice!” He squealed.

Peter giggled back. “You're not his cousin!” He contended. Harley and him looked at eachother for one long moment. “You silly, Peter.” Harley daid.

“No, you!” Peter insisted. Harley pointed to the blocks. “We play tower?” Peter looked to his cousin for permission, but didn’t bother to wait as he quickly joined in on the stacking game. 

Clint huffed. “Bucky, you gotta play!” He whined. “I’m makin’ sure the babies are okay.” Bucky told him. “No, they’re fine. Come on, let’s play superheroes!”

Bucky sifted through the barbie bin, finding one with long, red hair. “This one looks like my other cousin.” He said.

His friend rolled his eyes. “You’re still talkin’ all about cousins.”

“And- and this one looks like Uncle Loki! He’s not my Uncle, but he’s Tasha’s Uncle. And family shares-“ “Stop talkin’.” Clint insisted, “We gonna play superheroes now.”

“Here, babies, can you smile for the camera?” An attendant sounded. Suddenly, Bucky noticed that she was trying to get Peter and Harley’s attention.

The attendants always took pictures of the Littles. Whether they were to be used in promotional advertising or just to be put up in the lobby for the Caregivers to gawk at in adoration didn’t much matter, everyone got their picture taken at least once a week.

Peter squirmed and hid his face, running back towards his cousin. “No!” He screamed. “Bucky, hide!”

“She gotta get’cher pitcher, Petey.” Bucky told him, rubbing the younger boy’s back in an attempt to repeat what he had seen Uncle Tony do a few times. Maybe this was how grownups made babies be good?

The Little whined. “Nuh!” He complained. Bucky pleaded. “Uh huh! For me? Please?”

Abruptly, Peter’s posture changed. His face was revealed and his hands fell to his sides, showing a clear expression of opportunity. “Gummy worms.” The boy said.

Bucky sighed. How did Peter even  _ know  _ what Bucky had brought in his bag today? He must be a wizard or something. Could babies be wizards, or just grownups? Bucky had never seen a Little be a wizard before. “One. At snacktime.” He promised.

Peter posed, flashing a bright and toothy smile at the lens. The woman clicked her camera. “Thank you, Peter. Very handsome.” She cooed.

“Bye bye!” The boy waved as she walked away.

The older boy glared. “You’re evil.” He accused.

But the boy simply smiled. “I get gummy worm at snacktime.” He reminded.

Finally, after the hours had stolen all their minutes away, Bucky’s Daddywandered in from the front door and was let through the gate, where he then came towards the two Littles. “Hey, kiddo! Come on, Daddy’s all ready to take you home. We’ll bring Peter home too, okay? Uncle Tony is running a bit behind.” He explained.

Peter’s head cocked slightly as the Little suddenly remembered that his Daddy wasn’t with him. “Daddy?” The boy asked.

Bucky’s Daddy smiled. “Yeah, honey, we’re gonna go see your Daddy.” He clarified in agreement.

Both boys shot up, each taking a hand and allowing themselves to be led out so that they might get home sooner rather than later. “Yay!”


	16. Happily Ever After

“Once upon a time-”

“Daddy, hurry up!” Natasha whined, fussing slightly with her blankets. She didn’t usually get storytimes like these, but Thor had insisted they follow the advice of Bruce.

Thor laughed lightly. “It isn’t going to make any sense if I skip the intro, darling.” He commented.

The little girl rolled her eyes daringly. “So? I like  _ fast _ stories.” She reminded him, kicking lightly against the sofa.

Her Caregiver warmed at that. “Ah, we’re being snippy now, huh?” He joked. Natasha smiled. “I’m a sassy girl.”

That made Thor laugh even harder. “Yes you are, and I love that about you, Natasha. Now, please let Daddy read.” He requested.

“Okay!”

The man cleared his throat. “Once upon a time, there lived in a certain village a little country girl, the prettiest creature who was ever seen.”

“Like me?” Natasha interrupted.

This was going to be difficult, wasn’t it?

But Bruce had insisted it would help. Repression, while certainly common in Littles with trauma, would only cause more problems in Nat’s case. She needed the chance to familiarize herself with it.

The man sighed. “Yes, you are the prettiest. Now, please?” Natahsha shoved her finger to her lips. “Oh, yeah. Shhh!”

“Her mother was excessively fond of her; and her grandmother doted on her still more. This good woman had a little red riding hood made for her. It suited the girl so extremely well that everybody called her Little Red Riding Hood.”

“Like my hair!”

Thor rolled his eyes. “Baby girl, Daddy can’t read if you keep interrupting.” He noted.

But the Little only pouted and pointed to her hanging braid. “But my hair’s red!” She whined.

Her Daddy scolded lightly. “Princess.” He said.

Natasha’s mouth was suddenly closed, as the girl had never been one to upset her Caregiver, but Thor could see the burgeoning words in her puffed up cheeks.

“One day her mother, having made some cakes, said to her, "Go, my dear, and see how your grandmother is doing, for I hear she has been very ill. Take her a cake, and this little pot of butter." Little Red Riding Hood set out immediately to go to her grandmother, who lived in another village.”

At this point, Thor gestured to Natasha for comment, who looked ready to burst. “That’s nice ‘f her. I don’ gotta grandma, but I wouldn’t go real far to give’er cake.” 

Thor smiled. “We should always be caring to others. What if Uncle Tony was feeling sick? Would you bring him a cake?” Natasha shrugged. “Maybe.”

“As she was going through the wood, she met with a wolf, who had a very great mind to eat her up, but he dared not, because of some woodcutters working nearby in the forest. He asked her where she was going.”

“Does she know him?” Natasha asked. Thor nearly got on her, but quickly changed course when he noticed the opportunity for elaboration.

This story wasn’t the clearest in its message, laden with metaphors and symbolism of real-world wolves and the finiteness of innocence.

He leaned in gently. “No, baby. She doesn’t.” The man informed. Natasha startled. “Oh. Daddy says no talkin’ to strangers.” She pointed out.

“That’s right. This story is about why we don’t talk to strangers.” Thor agreed. He was glad she seemed to be following along, even if the poor girl’s patience was too thin to sit still throughout. “Oh. Okay.” Natasha smiled.

Thor continued on. “The poor child, who did not know that it was dangerous to stay and talk to a wolf, said to him, "I am going to see my grandmother and carry her a cake and a little pot of butter from my mother." "Does she live far off?" said the wolf.”

A pause was left, as Thor suddenly was preoccupied to fix where Nat’s skirt was nearly falling off by the way she was seated. Little girls rarely understood how easily those pesky things could slip, but she did look oh so cute in them.

“"Oh I say," answered Little Red Riding Hood; "it is beyond that mill you see there, at the first house in the village." "Well," said the wolf, "and I'll go and see her too. I'll go this way and go you that, and we shall see who will be there first."”

A noise was heard as the Little cleared her throat, waiting for the visual cue that she could voice her opinions. Thor allowed it. Natasha spoke once again. “Racin’ is fun.” She said.

Thor smiled at her. “It is, huh?” “Uh huh.”

He shook his head at the little one’s addimance, before continuing. “The wolf ran as fast as he could, taking the shortest path, and the little girl took a roundabout way, entertaining herself by gathering nuts, running after butterflies, and gathering bouquets of little flowers. It was not long before the wolf arrived at the old woman's house. He knocked at the door: tap, tap.”

“Soun’s like rain. Tap tap tap!” Natasha squealed.

Thor chided gently, reaching out to rub a loving hand through his little girl’s hair. “Shhh. Remember? Storytime is quiet time.”

She quieted down quickly. “Yeah! Sowwy, Daddy.” He smiled. “It’s alright, bubs.”

“"Who's there?" "Your grandchild, Little Red Riding Hood," replied the wolf, counterfeiting her voice; "who has brought you a cake and a little pot of butter sent you by mother." The good grandmother, who was in bed, because she was somewhat ill, cried out, "Pull the bobbin, and the latch will go up."”

Natasha raised her hand. “Yes, baby?” Thor called. “Whassa bobbin?” The girl asked him. Thor smiled and explained to his knowledge, although this was still technically his second language and he was using context clues. “Part of an old-timey lock.”

Natasha left her mouth agape in understanding. “Ohhhh!” She voiced.

“The wolf pulled the bobbin, and the door opened, and then he immediately fell upon the good woman and ate her up in a moment, for it had been more than three days since he had eaten. He then shut the door and got into the grandmother's bed, expecting Little Red Riding Hood, who came some time afterwards and knocked at the door: tap, tap.”

“Rain!”

“Natasha.”

“Oh. Sowwy.”

Thor smiled again. His Little was just the silliest thing. “"Who's there?" Little Red Riding Hood, hearing the big voice of the wolf, was at first afraid; but believing her grandmother had a cold and was hoarse, answered, "It is your grandchild Little Red Riding Hood, who has brought you a cake and a little pot of butter mother sends you."”

Thor expected the next comment, but was surprised to hear none.

Natasha was beginning to notice the message, even if laden under fluff and dazzle, she was making that connection in her brain. Just like Brice had said.

This was good. This was very good. In the long run, at least. 

“The wolf cried out to her, softening his voice as much as he could, "Pull the bobbin, and the latch will go up." Little Red Riding Hood pulled the bobbin, and the door opened.”

“Old-timey lock.” Natasha muttered gently.

Thor rubbed a calming hand over her shoulder. “Good memory, baby girl! Should we tell Brucie about that?” He asked, being sure to mention the girl’s therapist in hopes that it would assist in the process.

The girl seemed to agree with the sentiment. “Yeah. Tell him… tell ‘im am good.” “Okay, darling.” Thor promised.

“The wolf, seeing her come in, said to her, hiding himself under the bedclothes, "Put the cake and the little pot of butter upon the stool, and come get into bed with me." Little Red Riding Hood took off her clothes and got into bed.”

He took the moment to analyze the little, who was softly murmuring. “No beds with strangers. Bad.”

That was it. She was getting it. She was understanding exactly what this story was about, and her mind was comprehending her own trauma in a way it never had before. “That’s right, princess. Very smart of you.” Thor cooed.

“She was greatly amazed to see how her grandmother looked in her nightclothes, and said to her, "Grandmother, what big arms you have!" "All the better to hug you with, my dear." "Grandmother, what big legs you have!" "All the better to run with, my child." "Grandmother, what big ears you have!" "All the better to hear with, my child." "Grandmother, what big eyes you have!" "All the better to see with, my child." "Grandmother, what big teeth you have got!" "All the better to eat you up with."”

Natasha shook a little, her tiny body overtaken by shivers. “Scawy.” She voiced.

Thor rushedly finished the last page. “And, saying these words, this wicked wolf fell upon Little Red Riding Hood, and ate her all up.”

He reached forward, taking his baby into his lap and caressing her safely. “She shouldn’t’a talked to a stranger.” Natasha whined.

“That’s right.” Thor agreed.

Natasha hadn’t talked to a stranger, he knew that. She had been an innocent babe at the time, too young to make such a dreadful mistake, but the story still applied. The trauma was similar though not the same.

“Brucie says no talkin’ to strangers. ‘cause more bad stuff could happen.” The Little told her Daddy, as though he was unaware.

“Yes, my princess. It could.”

“That would be sad.”

“It would. But Daddy won’t let it happen. Alright?”

“Alright, Daddy.”


	17. Babysitters are For Losers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky gets angry

“Can’t I just go to daycare?”

“No, not when the daycare has a lice outbreak, you can’t.”

This had been going on all morning. Once daycare called to say that 17 of the Littles had lice, of course Steve wasn’t gonna send Bucky! Even if it meant he had to call Mrs. Evangeline from down the hall.

The boy pouted some more. “But- but-“ He whined.

Steve scoffed. “Young man, don’t you start with the buts.” He threatened, scooping up more eggs to place on Bucky’s plate.

Eggs were Bucky’s favorite, but he wasn’t paying much attention right now to the eggs.

“Peter’s gonna be scared at daycare wifout me!” he tried, a temptatious smirk dancing across his face.

Smart kid. Not smart enough to fool his Caregiver, but smart nonetheless. Maybe Steve should see about getting Bucky into acting. That pays well, right?

He kissed his boy gently on the cheek. “Peter is going to work with uncle Tony today.” He explained, nudging the eggs in a suggestive manner.

“Then why can’t  _ I  _ go to work with you?” Bucky complained, kicking lightly in his cute little booster seat. A gift from Tony. Everything seemed to be a gift from Tony nowadays.

Steve chuckled lightly. “You really think I would let you sit in a hot car outside for 9 hours?” He asked, “No. Littles aren’t allowed inside, baby.”

Bucky huffed. “Notta baby.” He mumbled.

The Caregiver just ruffled his hair, taking a seat at the table to eat his own breakfast. “Then stop acting like it.” He responded, hoping that was enough to quiet the boy down.

It wasn’t.

“Nuh uh!” The boy cried, now fussing wildly as he kicked against the seat.

Steve sighed. “Bucky…” He warned, reaching over to grab his boy’s ankles and hold them still.

He continued to cry, now defending on his hands to back against the table. “You’re stupid anyway!” He screamed.

“James Buchannan Rogers, you apologize right now!” Steve shouted, standing up to scold his little one’s naughtu behavior.

“No! No! You’re stupid! And so is Mrs. Evangeline and Peter and Tasha and Daycare and Uncle Tony and  _ EV’YBODY _ !”

Steve scolded again. “Do you want a time out?” he threatened, pointing angrily to the corner of the room.

Bucky pouted. “No!” He screamed, resuming his kicking 

“Well that’s what you’ll be getting if you don’t stop yelling.” He scolded, “Or, you can keep going even longer than that and you’ll get a spanking. Daddy doesn’t tolerate naughty little boys who throw fits when they get angry, James.”

Bucky shouted. “I hate you!”

Steve held his breath.

“Take that back.” He commanded.

“No! I hate you! I hate everything!”

“No, stop that right now.”

“I SAID NO!”

“JAMES BUCHANNAN ROGERS YOU BE QUIET AND LISTEN TO ME!”

A fleeting moment passed, porcelain silence echoing around the two of them.

Steve sighed. “Now, Daddy is going through a lot at the moment. I understand that some of that is a little above your comprehension level, but that doesn’t give you an excuse to yell.”

Bucky started. “Bu-”

“No.” Steve interrupted, “When Daddy tells you that you’re staying home with a sitter, you’re staying home with a sitter.”

The boy sobbed again. “But- she’s… she’s…”

Steve let his breath slow, his mind shaken from the fight. “She’s cheap, honey. She’s cheap.” He said softly.

After a moment, he continued. “Apologize for what you said.”

“Why?” Bucky asked angrily.

The Caregiver rubbed his Little’s temple. “There is nothing that makes Daddy cry more than thinking you hate me, you know that?”

Bucky looked sad all of a sudden. “Don’t hate you. Just mad.” Bucky claimed..

“Is that an excuse I hear?” Steve asked.

The boy shook his head. “Sorry, Daddy. Don’t hate you, promise. I love you.”

Steve smiled. “Thank you, baby boy. I love you more.” He laughed, “To the moon and back.”

Bucky squeaked. “To pluto and back!” He chirped.

“Okay, you little-”


	18. The Reunion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The girl took her cue, standing up and coming towards where Peter could see her clearly, kneeling to his level. “Hi, Peter. I’m Mic-”
> 
> “MJ.” Peter interrupted, eyes wide.

“You- you’ll need to be gentle.” Tony admitted, trying his best with small talk as the two youngsters rode idly in his car. “He had a tantrum this morning, I’m sorry. He’s usually really good, but I guess Murphy’s Law, you know?”

Ned laughed a little. “Yeah, yeah. Don’t worry, it’s not a problem. I’m just- really excited to see him again.” He said.

Tony smiled. “That’s good. That’s real good.”

“We- uh, we told May.” MJ informed, “She doesn’t really follow celebrity things, but I thought she deserved to know.”

That made sense. That made a lot of sense.

“The aunt, yeah?” Tony verified, nervously glancing out the window.

Ned chuckled. “Yeah. She- she, uh, she said to tell you that Ben wouldn’t mind you changing his middle name. Just- just as long as he’s happy.”

Tony smiled widely.

“I’d hope he is, otherwise he’s a bloody good actor and we’re all gonna lose it when he says sike.” He joked.

Suddenly, the car rolled to a stop in front of the large mansion, a gate at the front having opened and closed when the car approached by automatic sensors.

“Here’s the place.” Happy barked. “Make sure to tell my nephew I love him.” The man told Tony, pointing accusedly.

Tony laughed. “Always. You have a good afternoon, Hap. I’ll call you when the kids are ready to go.” He said.

They walked into the lavish home, the two youngest taking note at the way it looked nothing like it did in the magazines and vogue interviews.

The plush carpeting was covered in toys, and a small stain in the corner that looked like a finger painting accident. The walls were decorated with crayon drawings and paintings, each signed haphazardly by  _ PetdEr _ .

Oh, Littles.

“He’s just down for a nap around the corner.” Tony said, pointing to the hallway where a room could be barely seen, wooden letters spelling out  _ PETER _ on the front. 

The man leaned in to a baby monitor resting on the mantle. “Not awake yet, that’s good. Sometimes I come home and he’s already crying to get out of the crib.” He said, “I’m not really one to wake him up.”

Ned shook his head respectfully. “We can wait, if you need.” He said.

Tony smiled. “Yeah, yeah. Just for a minute.”

“He has some legos.”

“Uh, yeah. You- you said he used to play with those, right? It was the only toy he’s ever expressly asked for.”

“Oh, yeah. We built a death star one time.”

“I think he still kind of recognizes those films. I was watching one after I put him down the other night and he started crying through the monitor. Said the music made him sad.”

MJ looked confused. “He can hear from in there?” She asked.

They all took seats of the couches, a gentle squeak echoing from the added weight.

Tony sighed. “A little. Peter gets nervous when he can’t hear what I’m doing. Even if I leave the house, he likes to know.”

He still remembered the first time he left Peter in his nursery alone, the poor thing cried until he came back in and then demanded to be cuddled in the rocking chair until he passed out.

Ned rolled his eyes. “It’s the smarts.” He jested.

Tony had to agree. “Yeah. Yeah, it is.”

Suddenly, gentle noises began to echo from the baby monitor, as shuffling came through as well. “Hmph. Hmm- mmm- uh.” A small voice mumbled.

It was the most amazing sound MJ or Ned had ever heard. 

Tony stood up from the couch, running off to grab Peter. “I’ll go get him.”

Sounds continued to come through as the two friends sat on the couch, staring at the empty hallway and the slightly cracked door.

“Hey, bud, we have some visitors. Did you have a good nap?”

“Uh huh.”

“Still sleepy, huh? That’s okay. You need a change? No? Alright. Let’s go out there and say hi, yeah?”

“Yes.”

Suddenly the door reopened, and Tony came out with a boy tucked gently into his side,curly hair wobbly and bouncing around on his head. “Look! Do you see someone on the couch?” The man asked.

Peter peeked, before his eyes grew wide and he began to wiggle for freedom. “Okay- okay. You want down, I get it.” Tony chuckled.

Once the boy was on the ground, Peter his behind his daddy’s legs and stared at MJ.

The girl took her cue, standing up and coming towards where Peter could see her clearly, kneeling to his level. “Hi, Peter. I’m Mic-”

“MJ.” Peter interrupted, eyes wide.

Tony knew that Peter remembered a girl. But now, he was so happy to see something jog his boy’s memory. MJ. Peter knew MJ.

The girl smiled. “Yeah. Yeah. Do you know who I am?” She asked, eyes welling up with happy tears.

Peter smiled. “Girl. Long time ago.” He said, pointing to his wrist to simulate the watches that Daddy wore.

“Yeah, buddy. That’s the girl. You wanna say hi?” Tony asked, gently nudging Peter towards the two.

Peter pointed to Ned. “Boy, too, Daddy.” He informed. His eyes were wide, tears forming for him as well as he gleefully took notice to how the blurry memories from his long ago were being realized.

“My name’s Ned. It’s very nice to see you again.” The boy smiled, not seeming bothered to not have caused an epiphany himself.

Peter nodded. “Uh huh.” He said.

The man checked his baby over. “Honey, are you okay to come talk to them? They’ve missed you very much.” He said.

“Grownups. Look- look bigger.” Peter whined.

Tony chuckled. “Yeah, they look bigger than you remember. I know. Wanna go see how much bigger?” He cooed.

Peter smiled, and did just that.

The boy crouched down, pointing to his pile of Lego Duplos and looking hopefully up at the others. “Legos?” He offered.

Ned followed him, agreeing. “You like playing with these ones?” He asked.

Peter giggled lightly. “Uh huh.” He said, before pointing to Ned. “The b- Ned plays too.”

Ned laughed at the memories. “Yeah, yeah, I do.” He said, shuffling through the toys in search of a good piece.

The girl got down to sit next to them, running a hand through Peter’s still-curly hair. “Wanna all three play together, then?” She asked.

A moment passed where Peter stared at her blankly.

“You’re pretty.” The boy noted, looking MJ up and down as he seemed to notice for the first time that she was even more attractive- thank god for the glow up- than she was in his memory.

MJ chuckled a little. “Thank you.” She said, remembering how the last time Peter called her that it was in a very different way.

Peter giggled. reaching out to hand Ned a piece with eyes on the front. “My cousin Tasha is pretty.” He chirped.

“Yeah? What’s she like?” MJ asked cheerfully.

And all was right again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as always, comments and kudos are much appreciated!!!


	19. Turn Back Time pt.2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> yall asked for it

Peter dozed off for a little while, suddenly very overwhelmed as he was carried out into another building. Why was he so tired? He wasn’t tired before they gave him that shot.

Upon waking, someone was jossling him around. Peter opened his eyes blearily, looking up to see a young woman “Hi, buddy. It’s okay, don’t cry. My name’s Jocelyn, what’s yours?” She greeted.

Cry?

Peter wasn’t crying. Why would he be crying? Nothing was going on that would make him cry. He was nearly- no, he  _ was  _ 13 years old. 13 year old do not cry.

Wait… were those tears on his cheek?

Hold up.

“P-Pe’er.” The boy mumbled, hoping the sudden loss of his ability to say the  _ t  _ was just from the drugs.

Jocelyn laughed. “Ooo, Peter. That’s such a pretty name. Okay, Peter, you just calm down and we can finish getting you dressed, yeah?” She offered.

That sounded good to Peter, who laid back as the woman got a white zip-up sweatshirt pulled over his arms.

Wait, why was he in an all-white outfit now? Had that lady from earlier changed him while he was asleep?  _ Not cool, lady _ , he thought,  _ that’s one way to look like a pedophile _ .

“Okay, good boy.” Jocelyn smiled,before whipping out a hairbrush from nowhere and brushing Peter’s hair over.

It was on the wrong side now. Peter  _ always _ parted it on the left side. Ben said it framed his face nicer, gave him a clean and strong jawline. 

Suddenly, Peter was reminded of what was going on. Where he was. Who he was.

_ What  _ he was.

It didn’t matter what Ben thought of how Peter parted his hair or how many times May had said that no nephew of hers would ever be seen in a one-colored outfit. 

He wasn’t going to see them ever again. Not Ben, not May. Not Ned or MJ. There would be no bar mitzvah in a month and there would be no school dance a week after that. He wasn’t a kid anymore. He wasn’t unclassified. He wasn’t an Assumed Neutral and he wasn’t a Neutral at all.

“Don’t touch this, please.” Jocelyn said, placing a sticker of some kind on the left of Peter’s breastplate. He didn’t bother reading it.

Next thing Peter knew, a pair of also-white velcro shoes were being tightly placed onto his feet, and another woman was entering the room before he was hoisted onto her hip. In a fleeting moment, he caught a girl being carried in behind him, asleep and recently changed into white clothing, as Jocelyn took her and laid her on the table.

The woman carried him out to where he saw bus, the sliding door on the side revealing that it was nearly full with 13-year-olds.

“This one’s cute, eh?” The man said, pointing to Peter as the boy was plopped into a Little sized car seat.

She rolled her eyes. “Yeah, sure.” She mumbled.

“Oh, you’re just mad you don’t get to take one home. Where’s the lie?” The man prodded, poking at the woman’s stomach before closing the latch on the car seat.

The woman laughed. “No, no, Melissa would  _ kill _ me if the twins got a sibling out of the blue. Also, legalities. Wives are much more scary than the law, though.”

Peter began to tune them out. This conversation was boring. Instead he turned, staring blankly at the boy next to him as the two apparent Caregivers strolled off towards the building.

Probably to fetch that girl.

“Hi.” The mystery boy greeted.

Peter smiled. “Hi.” He copied.

The boy stuck his hand out, offering it to Peter for a shake. “Lucas.” He said with authority, before easing up to give the other a chance to speak.

“Pe’er.” The boy said, shaking his new friend’s hand.  _ What the hell happened to my ts? _

Both boys stared at each other for a moment, eyes locked in a trance as their hands were still embracing one another. “Are you… are we high?” Lucas asked.

Suddenly, the Caregivers were back in the car, and Peter’s consciousness suddenly came to the fact that the bus was now entirely full. How long had him and Lucas stared at each other without noticing the passage of time?

The man spoke harshly. “Kids, quiet down. It’s late, you know. About a twenty minute drive to the airport and then you can all sleep on the plane. Got it?”

All of the Littles, without prompting or teaching suddenly echoed a chorus of synced “Mhm!”, which scared the living daylights out of a lot of them. How were they all so equal-minded?

The ride went by fairly quickly again, Peter losing track of time once more as he glanced haphazardly around the bus. There was the girl on the opposite side of him, who hushedly introduced herself as Grace, and Lucas to look at the whole time.

Not to call that exciting, but Peter was  _ really  _ loopy right now. And with all these stupid chemicals working through his bloodstream, becoming intigrated with the very fiber of his bein, he wasn’t willing to focus on the way his knees were aching like crazy and his  _ you know what _ was feeling kind of numb.

“Okay, one by one, here we go.” The man instructed as he pulled the kids out, lining them up in the same order and instructing that everyone hold hands.

Peter barely noticed the two other buses, each emptying of kids from other locations. The large, private plane was slowly filling up as rows of them filed in, occasionally being lifted.

Once he was walking on his own, Peter noticed a strange difference in his gait. He wasn’t even going to _ask_ what that was about.

The woman guided their group along as they approached the aircraft. “Everybody come along now, step to it. We’re almost to the plane.”

Lucas spoke hushedly to Peter again. “Wanna play swords when we get on?” He asked. Peter shrugged. “I think we’re supposed to sleep.” He reminded.

Some of the kids looked nervous to be boarding. Peter understood that, the memories reminding him of the last time he saw a plane this close. Watching his parents go away for a business trip to Fiji on a plane that would never land.

He shifted his focus to where a few of the kids were smacking the side of the plane as they went up. That was funny. That was much better. Good luck, they say.

Grace spoke up, then. “Sleeping is for babies. It’s only, like, eight. We can stay up.” She insisted.

“Alright, kiddos, careful on the steps.” The woman said as she held Lucas’ hand, guiding him up the three steps and into the door. Suddenly, she made eye contact with Peter.

Glancing at the boy’s chest, the woman smiled, then lifted Peter up into the air and placed him inside the doorway of the plane. “Oh, you’re a lucky man, huh? Here, I’ll help you.”

Peter blushed. “Thank you.” He mumbled in return.

Following all the other kids, Peter walked back until he found his spot on the plane. God, his knees were hurting.

“Okay, are we all settled?” Another woman, maybe a flight attendant, called out to the Littles as they spoke amongst themselves and readied their seat belts.

The flight attendant cooed lightly.

Ugh, that noise was like nails on a chalkboard. Could she _ be _ any less annoying? 

“Good job! My name’s Monique, I’m going to be your guys’ helper until we get to the school, okay? Okay, who came on a blue bus?” The- sorry-  _ Monique _ called out.

A bunch of hands shot up from the back of the plane. “Yes, you’re all group blue, okay? So, what group are we?”

“Blue!”

“Great job, guys? Now, yellow bus, what group do you think you are, huh?”

“Yellow!”

“Yes, amazing! And the red bus?”

“Red!” Peter’s busload shouted. Why was this so exciting? Wait, why was  _ Peter _ kind of into it? What the everloving hell?

Monique chuckled. “Oh my goodness, good job, guys. Okay, we’re gonna get all comfy now, okay? Everyone lie back and we’ll turn the lights down for you. If you get scared during takeoff, ask one of the grownups, yeah?”

The kids smiled and began closing their eyes, some very obviously counting sheep as they stared at the plane ceiling, the lights slowly going down.

“Hey, what’s going on over here? You dudes not tired?” Monique asked, looking at the three of them, still visibly awake.

Lucas shook his head. “Nope. We’re playing swords. It’s quiet, don’t worry.” He explained

Monique chuckled.“That’s fine, you two. Um, you, though.” She said, pointing to Peter, “I think you need to be trying to sleep, okay? It’s a bit too late for you to still be up.”

Peter startled. “It’s not th’t late.” He whi- whined ? Why the hell was he so upset over this? What wa  _ wrong  _ with him? All of the kids on the plane looked like they were going through something, but Peter… why was everything crashing down for  _ him _ ?

“Okay. Uh huh. How about this? If you’re still up when the plane is done taking off, we can move you up to a seat by the grownups. So that was nobody is tempting you.”

“No.” Peter huffed. 

Monique grew stern. “It’s bedtime.” She insisted, “Go to sleep. You two have to go now, too.” 

Grace huffed. “Why?” She asked, as Lucas glared at Peter for ruining their chance to play.

“Please? For the baby’s sake?” She requested.

Peter looked confused for a moment, face perfectly matching Grace’s, before looking down at the sticker on his front.

There, plain as day, in pretty cursive handwriting and blue ink, was the death sentence Peter never would have thought would befall onto him.

**_Parker_ **

**_12-24 months_ **


	20. Turn Back Time pt. 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> hereee we go again!!!

Peter huffed as he sat up in his stupid crib at the stupid training center with his stupid bottle still sitting off to the side.

To some extent, he could make out that the hands on the clock were yet to reach the 9 am mark, although it had been so long since he’d been allowed to read a clock properly that he wasn’t sure what time it actually was.

Three months. He’d only been here for three months and he’d already lost himself. He couldn’t read anymore, that part of his brain being turned to mush back when he got his CSCs, and the food they gave him had just enough of a numbing agent mixed in to keep his tongue slightly limp, reinforcing the slight lisp he had received, and keeping it from falling away.

Peter didn’t care much anymore. He had other things to worry about than the way that he couldn’t remember what his father’s name was or how he was unsure if he had a pet or not.

Like how there was a stupid, bulky diaper taped around his waist 24/7, and how no matter how much he begged the staff refused to let him use the restroom. Grace and Lucas teased him for it, because of course both of them were “older”, and had actual underwear all the time. At least they were friendly enough.

Or, how he had asked  _ specifically  _ for apple slices yesterday and the staff member- had it been Maria? It was either Maria or Anne- just chuckled and served him the same stupid flavor-of-the-week purée with crunchy baby food on the side that was shaped like stars and tasted like banana.

_ Plus _ , he had heard an actual swear word for the first time since he was classified yesterday, and everyone in the room had to get a lecture. It was… something starting with a B? Peter couldn’t remember it well. He just knew that Eliza had said it and next thing Peter knew, she was getting taken away for a spanking.

He wanted to go home.

“Hey, babies, who’s up?” a gentle voice whispered.

Peter turned his head to see Anne coming in, before realizing that his shuffling must have come through over the baby monitor. There was one on those wretched things every other crib, making sure that none of the 12 Littles could get up to any mischief. 

Being the youngest of the bunch, Peter wasn’t sure what they could even do. The boys and girls were together in this age division, a contrast to the other groups which separated the bedrooms, but they didn’t all get along very well.

He hated girls, after all. Even though he was  _ almost sure _ he had been dating MJ, he just didn’t like girls at all. They were gross and they smelled weird and the staff spent  _ forever  _ doing their hair each morning.

The only attention the super cool boys in the baby room ever needed was dressing time, changes, meals, naps, and bedtime. So, basically nothing at all.

“Peter, hey, what’s going on, bud?” Anne asked, coming closer and pressing a hand to Peter’s forehead and ears, checking if perhaps the boy was getting sick.

Peter fussed a little, wiggling away from the hands as he pointed towards the door. “Out.” He said, simply, having been told repeatedly for the last few months not to speak too many words in a sentence.

The woman laughed lightly. “What was it, bud? You have a nightmare.”  _ Yes, and I’m still in it, you dumb head. _

But Peter didn’t say that out loud, did he? Because 1) he knew that wasn’t a real swear but he couldn’t quite remember any real ones and 2) he would probably get a spanking for that and really? Not the goal here.

“Just wanna get up.” Peter explained. “Well, it’s still too early, bud. We can all get up and play in two hours.” Anne said, showing two fingers on his hand.

At least, Peter was pretty sure that was two. When was the last time he did any math?

God, help him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as always, comments and kudos are much appreciated!!!!


	21. Turn Back Time pt. 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> eep

“Peter, pay attention.” Grace snapped, both literally and figuratively with a very loud snap echoing in front of Peter’s tired face.

He’d just been woken up an hour ago, and as soon as he was dressed and had had a morning bottle he was set down next to Grace, meaning she needed to talk his ear off.

Apparently there was some grand plan Peter hadn’t been told about that was going into motion today. She wanted to get all the stuffies from every cubby and throw a stuffie party- even though each Little was only allowed to have one “me-item” out at a time.

The boy wiggled a little bit anyway. “Sowwy.” He apologized, looking down at his feet and playing with his toes absentmindedly.

They were very interesting when you knew where to tickle.

“You got Lulu?” Grace checked. Peter shook his head sadly, eliciting a confused look from the girl.

He pouted back. “Nuh uh. Jus’ Mia.” Peter explained. 

Grace groaned angrily, because of course she 

did. Nothing Peter did was ever good enough for the big kids, but at least Grace didn’t hate him.

She just found him very stupid and babyish.

“Ugh. You said you’d get Lulu!” The girl cried.

Peter, reminder, had never said such a thing, but he didn’t want to get into a fight. Last time he got in a fight, he had to sit in timeout in his crib all day with no toys and only his scheduled bottles, no meal times.

It was so boring. He didn’t want to do that ever again. No way. Nuh uh.

“She in cubby!” The boy whined, hoping it would yield him some room to get away from the situation. Maybe he could play house with the big kids, sometimes they let him join because he made a good baby. Which was silly, he wasn’t a baby.

Right?

_ Right? _

Grace huffed. “So?” She asked, a dumb look on her face as her eyebrows furrowed inwards and her lip curled slightly.

Peter hummed a little tune to himself, dum dum dum duh duh dum duh duh dum dum dum dum duh duh dum duh duh dum. He made it up himself, at least he thought so.

“Crib  _ locked _ . Bed not.” Peter reminded. Why did big kids not understand that the cribs in the baby room were locked all night? If anyone was going to get out of bed, undo the lock on the door, and then sneak to their cubby to get a toy, it was  _ never  _ gonna be a baby.

Grace fussed. “It is  _ not  _ my responsibility to get Lulu from the cubby. You could'a asked for her, you’re cute. Paige says so.” She teased.

Paige was officially the newest of the new workers, having just gotten the job last week. She liked Peter a lot and it made him uncomfortable, the way Paige always played with his hair and kissed his head.

“Paige scawy.” Peter mumbled in return.

She wasn’t really scary, but Peter’s vocabulary seemed to be shrinking lately. Most words had left his mind entirely over the last two years,

his brain slowly turning to mush- an eerie mirror of like half of his food anymore.

Lucas spoke up then, though Peter hadn’t even noticed when he joined them. He must have been playing tag. Lucase nudged the boy harshly. “Too bad. Go ask.” He insisted, pointing to where an unnamed staff member was walking around.

Who was he? Newman? Nate? Nash?

“Nuh!” Peter cried, refusing to ask. He wasn’t going to be allowed to get another me-item.

He had Mia! Mia was a puppy and she had sparkles on her and Peter  _ loved her _ . All that Lulu had was pig ears on a tiny pig body with a pig snout. 

Lulu was his second favorite, which meant she was  _ never _ going to be worth a timeout or a spanking.

Grace huffed. “You  _ never _ play along!” She complained.

Peter whined more at that. “Imma get in t’ubble!” He screamed, but that attracted the attention of the staff member from earlier.

N-something came over, picking Peter up immediately holding the baby on his hip. “What are you cuties doing, huh?” He asked the group.

Peter fussed a little, wiggling in the man’s grip as he wanted to be put back down. Why wouldn’t anyone  _ ever  _ listen to him?

Why was he wiggling and mot  _ saying  _ something?

“See? Cute.” Grace mumbled.

“We’re playin’!” Lucas claimed cheerfully, lying through his teeth as that was definitely  _ not  _ play.

But the man just chuckled, before checking Peter and immediately making the boy flush red with realization. “You need a change, Peter. Come on, come be a good boy for me, yeah?” He asked.

“‘Kay.” Peter mumbled.

But he couldn’t stop wondering to himself- what was happening?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as always, comments and kudos are much appreciated!!!!


	22. Turn Back Time pt. 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> THE FINALEEEE  
> and now back to ur regularly scheduled series lol

“Peter, come here.”

The boy looked up from his spot on the playmat in the adoption center’s baby room, a soft ballerina doll dropping from his hands and landing on the floor with a thud.

Muriel chuckled, a frequent habit of the woman, before grabbing Peter’s hand and hoiting him upwards. “You’ve got a visitor.” She cooed.

Peter hummed as he was lifted onto Muriel’s hip. “Ariel?” He questioned.

He liked Ariel. Ariel always came with candy, sometimes even pixie sticks.

He didn’t think the adoption staff liked her very much after the last time he stayed up all night on a sugar high.

“No, Ariel might come visit next week, though. She really likes you.” The woman explained.

Peter was okay with that.

There were a lot of mommies and daddies that gave him visits. They would come every so often and play, and he liked that. He liked being the specialest boy.

The boy played with his hands to entertain himself, wiggling them about. “She got p’etty name.” The boy contended.

Muriel laughed, before opening the doors and carrying Peter out to the open room, where a. man was waiting.

“Mr. Stark, this is Peter.”

The man had a funny looking beard and scraggly dark hair. He was older than the other mommies and daddies, most of which were fresh out of school like Peter, but it wasn’t scary.

Peter was a very brave boy, after all.

_ He kinda looked familiar. _

“Peter, say hello to Mr. Stark.” Muriel instructed. And the boy did just that. “‘lo misser s’ark.” He mumbled. 

Tye man cooed slightly.

“Call me Tony, alright?” He offered.

Peter gasped. “A’right.” He babbled back in a very innocent tone.

Most mommies and daddies wanted to be on a first name basis, but something about this man made it different.

“He’s a cutie, huh?” Muriel asked the man- Tony.

Tony laughed. “Yeah. I’m about willing to say I’m taken.”

Muriel chuckled in unison with him. “Well, Peter’s a little bit of a higher price range for the adoption fee, so keep that in mind.” She reminded.

The man gave her a blank stare. “That usually scare people off?” He asked.

“No, but he has 12 prospective Caregivers already, so I take any attempt I can to keep that list from rising.”

That made Tony shift.

The man quickly averted his attention back to Peter, though.

“You got any favorite toys here?” Tony asked the Little.

Peter nodded wildly, pointing back towards the baby room. “In c’ib.” He explained.

_ The word “crib” still felt weird on Peter’s tongue. Something was off about this. Something… something he was mad about. _

“Oh? You’re favorite’s in your crib, huh?” The man asked back, scratching under Peter’s chin as if the boy were a dog. “Why don’t you go get it for me then? We can play together.”

Peter looked up at Muriel carefully. “I go?” He asked with hope.

Muriel chuckled at the question. “Just be careful, make sure not to go too fast.”

At that, Peter was released from the hold of the grown up, and took off toddling to his crib.

“He’s pretty mobile.” Tony commented.

Muriel nodded. “Well, depending on the situation. A few hours ago he wasn’t able to stand, but the strength kicks in every so often and then he’s running wild.”

A voice echoed from down the hall.

“Brought pillow!”

Peter, having definitely ran and  _ definitely  _ tripped a few times came into sight with a pillow in his arms.

“Your favorite toy is a pillow?” Tony aksed.

The woman chuckled at the confusion. “He likes fluffy things. Not exactly the most materialistic baby around.”

Peter showed the pillow to Tony proudly. “You play?” The Little requested. “Yeah, yeah. I’m not exactly sure how we’re meant to play with a pillow, but I’m game.” The man agreed.

The boy patted the pillow once, looking at Tony expectantly.

Tony tried to copy him. “Oh, pat it? Like this?” He asked. 

“Uh huh!” The boy cheered.

They played for nearly an hour like that, just the two of them. Tony had never had that much fun in his life, and Peter couldn’t help but giggle.

Muriel pointed at Peter. “He likes you.”

Tony cooed. “I like him.”

_ Why did Peter feel all funny now? He wasn’t sick, at least he hoped not. _

Muriel hummed generously. “Would you like to get your name on the list, then?” She offered, reaching towards a clipboard.

“Can I… maybe… rush order a Little?”

“Mr. Stark-“

“How much of a donation are we talking here?”

“I’m not sure I can just-“

The man begged. “Please. I feel a connection here.”

Muriel stammered. “You’ll have to discuss that with my boss.” She explained

Tony went dead in the eyes, a challenging demeanor taking over.“Show me where the office is. I’m pulling all the stops here.  _ Nobody else  _ is taking that baby from me.”

“Tony go bye-bye?” The Little asked.

“For a minute, yeah.” Muriel told him.

Peter spoke hushedly, his face going dull and void as he stared at the door in confusion. “Oh. I liked Tony.”

“More than all the other mommies and daddies?” The woman asked calmly. Peter giggled a little, but she had to tickle him to get an answer.

The boy squealed. “Uh huh! He play pillow.”

Muriel chuckled lightly and fluffed the boy’s hair, fussing with his appearance to calm herself. “Yeah, he did, huh?” She cooed.

Suddenly, a voice rang out as the office door swung open. 

“Muriel!”

“Yeah?” Muriel called back.

“Get these papers signed now. Mr. Stark has done his part.” The superior ordered, thrusting a group of messily scrawled over papers her way.

_ Why was that so weird? Why did someone signing papers after meeting with his feel important? _

The woman stuttered. “I- okay- yeah, sure.”

Peter looked back down at Pillow for a moment of silence, before the new caregiver approached him smiling.

Tony lifted Peter onto his hip then, making the boy giggle as he tickled his sides. “Hey. I have a new idea for what you can call me.” He cooed.

Peter got hyped up at that. He was gonna pick a great one!

“Tone!” The boy squealed.

Tony chuckled lightly. “No. That’s a clever one, though. Good job.” The man cooed, before lifting Peter a little closer and whispering into the boy’s ear.

“How would you like to call me Daddy?”

Peter smiled.

_ What could ever be wrong with this? Everything is just as it’s supposed to be. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as always, comments and kudos are much appreciated!!!


	23. Natasha At The Psychiatrist

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Makes sense.” The man agreed. Natasha nodded as well. “It does.” “But now that she’s all better, maybe you two can make me a pretty drawing, yeah?” The doctor asked.
> 
> Natasha gasped. “Me and ‘cenza?” She checked, pointing between them. Vincenza never got to join in for pictures!
> 
> “Yes, both of you.” The man promised. Just seeing the excitement on the girl’s face was enough to let him grab the extra page. “Here, a second paper. You’re a nice girl, I’m sure you two can share.” He said, as he sat down a package of crayons as well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh look a falsettos themed title

“How are you today, hon?”

“Good. You?” Natasha responded, looking lacklusterly at the pink walls.

Pink was a nice color. Happy. It made her feel good, that was why she liked it, and why Brucie always picked this room for when they had their apportionments together. He was a good friend for that, she thought.

Natasha smiled once more as Bruce spoke up again. “I’m doing fine, thank you.” He greeted.

Formalities were always expected during appointments. When Bruce’s patients got into routine, it was much easier to pry new information. Especially for the ones like Nat who tended to bundle their feelings up

PTSD in Littles was sick.

The man pointed to the small doll. “How is Vincenza doing? Is she still feeling sick?” He asked. 

Natasha shook her head, picking up her dolly for the moment to look at her. Vincenza had been sick last week, badly, and Natasha had cried all the way through because her friend was in desperate need of medicine and waa going to die.

Bruce took a lot of notes last week.

“No, better now.” The girl said, “She- uh- she needs a nap early today. Really tired after all the yucky times.” Bruce chuckled. “Yeah, what was wrong with her again?” He asked gently.

The girl thought back for a moment.

“Cuddle disficiency.” She claimed proudly, mispronunciation aside. It was clear she thought she was saying it right, and Bruce found it quite adorable.

The man smiled. “Oh, of course. Disficiency. I’ve heard of those.” He agreed, playing along.

Natasha giggled a little bit as she gave her toy a big cuddle to display the necessary affection. “Mhm. She- she needed more cuddles.” She explained, as if Bruce couldn’t guess for himself like a big boy.

“Makes sense.” The man agreed. Natasha nodded as well. “It does.” “But now that she’s all better, maybe you two can make me a pretty drawing, yeah?” The doctor asked.

Natasha gasped. “Me and ‘cenza?” She checked, pointing between them. Vincenza  _ never _ got to join in for pictures!

“Yes, both of you.” The man promised. Just seeing the excitement on the girl’s face was enough to let him grab the extra page. “Here, a second paper. You’re a nice girl, I’m sure you two can share.” He said, as he sat down a package of crayons as well.

400 colors. Expensive as hell but worth it when it came to getting some play therapy in.

Natasha smiled back at him, showing off the pink crayon to Vincenza. “Yeah, we share.” She agreed.

Bruce turned around, giving Natasha the full time to draw as he waited for her to finish, giving free space.

Finally, the girl tapped on his shoulder as they neared the end of the sessions. “Oh, what a pretty drawing!” He cheered, not even taking a chance to evaluate it yet.

There were 12 stick figures on the main page, 11 with circle bodies and one with a triangle body. Long ago, Bruce had found Natasha’s association of body and gender. Men, to her, all had large beer bellies and yellowed teeth. Thus, they were drawn like that. Even Thor and Loki and the rest of her family.

“Is good?” The girl asked.

Well, it was something.

The male figures were surrounding the other, some with clothes and others without, one of them wearing a gold chain that Bruce knew was a reoccurring image.

He smiled at her kindly. “Yes, it’s beautiful. And who’s that?” He asked, pointing to the chained male. Natasha shrugged. “Man.”

_ Man _ . A word that Bruce understood meant  _ bad man _ . Natasha’s Daddy, for instance,

was never referred to as a  _ man. _ Hell, some of the men Natasha talked about were clearly women, but they were all  _ men  _ to her. Nice males were boys, nice females were girls, but evil was always a man.

“Oh, okay. And that? Is that Daddy?” “No, man.” “Oh, are they all men?” “Uh huh.”

Bruce pointed again. “Even this little one? Usually a triangle body is for a dress, yeah?” He checked.

Natasha stuttered over it. “Uh, no. Me.” She explained. Bruce smiled widely. Good. “Oh, that’s you.” “Yeah, ‘m layin’ down.”

“And what did Vincenza draw?” The man asked, somewhat interested in what else Natasha had put together.

The Little produced a drawing of another triangular figure with a pink dress. “Ballerina.” She explained. 

Bruce chuckled. “Oh, how cute. Does she want to be a ballerina one day?” He asked. Natasha nodded.

“Are you ready for dance class, then? You gonna start up again?” The girl smiled. “Not afraid anymore, can go back.” She said bravely. “That’s good, Nat. That’s very good.”

“Daddy not leave.” Natasha said. “No, he won’t leave you.” The doctor promised.

Suddenly, a loud voice rang from Bruce’s phone as the timer went off.

_ “NEVER GONNA GIVE YOU UP _

_ NEVER GONNA LET YOU DOWN _

_ NEVER GONNA TURN AROUND AND _

_ DESERT YOU _

_ NEVER GONNA MAKE YOU CRY _

_ NEVER GONNA SAY GOODBYE _

_ NEVER GONNA TELL A LIE _

_ AND HURT YOU” _

Bruce startled. “Ope, would you look at that! Time flies, don’t it? Well, why don’t you and Vincenza go out there and hug Daddy then, speak of the devil?” He prompted, opening the door finally.

“Daddy!”

“Was she well behaved?” The man questioned, accent thick but not to far for Bruce to hear him perfectly clearly throughout.

Bruce shook his head.“Nat’s a dear, as always. How’s the medication going? Not running low yet?” He asked. They had started some new meds recently, and those were always a mixed bag with Natasha’s case.

Thor smiled.

A good sign, thank god.

“No, she’s only had a handful of episodes since we got them, though, so maybe we will just see if they pick up.” The man said.

The two men chuckled solemnly. “Well, you have me on speed-dial.” The doctor promised, giving a light wink. He was always trying to add some humor to the melancholy.

“That I do. Next week, then?” Thor checked, flipping through his schedule mentally.

Bruce nodded. “Next week.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as always, comments and kudos are much appreciated!!!!


	24. Half-Truths

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Bucky?” Luna called, “Your Daddy is here now. Be polite and follow the rules, now.”
> 
> Luna was nice. Usually. But whenever Bucky got in trouble she was always such a stickler for the protocol. 
> 
> Protocol that, by the way, was dumb. Very dumb. Buckt didn’t want to apologize to Daddy, he hadn’t even lied! Not really!

Bucky was not a liar.

He wasn’t.

Was not not not not not.

And if Daddy asked, you could tell him that.

Not a liar at all.

So, when he got in trouble for lying at daycare, he was rightfully p-worded. (He’d heard Daddy say the  _ real _ word last night, but he knew better than to say it himself.)

He hadn’t  _ meant  _ to lie. Not really. But Clint was being dumb and told on Bucky for pinching Harley and then Bucky said he didn’t because  _ technically  _ Harley hit him first and it was in self defense, but then stupid Peter had to tell that Bucky wasn’t giving the whole truth and now he was in timeout until Daddy came to pick him up in like 40 million hours.

He was very passionate about this topic.

All Bucky wanted was for Daddy to take him home and give him cake and ice cream for his troubles, but he knew it wouldn’t be that easy.

“Bucky?” Luna called, “Your Daddy is here now. Be polite and follow the rules, now.”

Luna was nice. Usually. But whenever Bucky got in trouble she was always such a stickler for the protocol. 

Protocol that, by the way, was dumb. Very dumb. Buckt didn’t  _ want  _ to apologize to Daddy, he hadn’t even lied! Not really!

“Baby, you gonna come see your poor old Daddy or am I just gonna sit her by myself?” Daddy’s voice rang out.

Bucky was very tempted to inform the man that  _ yes, he was gonna sit there by himself because Bucky was a good boy and hadn’t done nuttin. _

_ Nuttin at all. _

Something told him that would earn a spanking, though. And he really didn’t like spankings.

“James Buchannaan Rogers, come speak with you know better than to ignore me.”

He was ignoring his Daddy, wasn’t he? And that wasn’t very fair, but Bucky felt that string sense of remorse telling him Daddy deserved it.

Maybe that spanking was worth it after all.

“James! Turn around and tell me what happene today or you’re gonna be straight to timeout with no dinner and early bedtime, is that what you want?”

Maybe it was what he wanted, what did Daddy know? Daddy didn’t know anything.

Bucky was  _ not  _ a liar.

He’d die on that rock if he had to, cold and lonely in this corner as he waited for Daddy to shap. Daddy never snapped, Daddy was a good Daddy. But maybe one day he would, then Bucky would be sad about Daddy instead of mad because everybody was saying he lied.

“Alright, bud. Come on.” Daddy said, picking Bucky up and hoisting him onto his hip. “We’re going to go home and have timeout, then.”

Bucky was fine with that.

After all, he was  _ not  _ a liar.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as always, comments and kudos are much appreciated!!!!!!!!


	25. Monsters In The Evening

Peter choked as his tears enveloped his throat, coating it thickly in saliva and salt, as he struggled for breath.

He needed Daddy.

He needed Daddy now.

But Daddy wasn’t there. Daddy wasn’t nowhere and Peter wanted him and nobody was gonna help because he was all alone and everything was gonna end.

He kept running through the thick brush of the dark forest, the monster behind him getting closer and closer.

Peter was sure it was going to eat him all up in one bite. Then he wouldn’t get to Daddy not ever! 

“Dada! Hewp!” The boy cried as he ran. His face was covered in tears now, and maybe a little bit of dirt as another bristle smacked him straight in the face.

Suddenly, the boy felt the monster’s big, hairy hand grab him by the waist, and the world seemed to be sucked in as he screamed as loud as he could.

“DADDY!”

“Woah woah woah woah woah, what’s going on, munchkin?” Tony asked, as the monster’s hand abruptly dissolved into soft blankets and the rocky ground became Peter’s dandelion print mattress. The trees were gone too, only the trees from outside Peter’s curtains were visible. 

And Daddy- Daddy was here now.

Peter tried to speak, he really did, but the words got all funny and slippery in his mouth as the boy simply bawled, reaching out to the silhouette in the dark that he knew was his Daddy.

“You have a bad dream, little one?” Tony cooed, bending over the crib bars and lifting his boy out.

Peter was always such a timid baby, seemingly scared by anything and everything. Tony had always suspected it was something from well before the adoption, but it didn’t stop the break in his heart.

The baby mumbled mindlessly as he chewed down on his thumb, a pacifier long abandoned inside of the crib as they exited the room. 

“Mo’ster.” He babbled.

Tony smiled down at his baby. “Oh, a monster. I see.” He chuckled. Monsters were always a running theme. Once, when Peter’s conversational abilities had been at their max, the boy had mentioned that the monsters always looked the same.

Near white blonde hair masked the creatures, and they had gnarly teeth with dark eyes. Probably something from his imagination.

Maybe Tony needed to call Ned and MJ over soon. They hadn’t seen Peter for a while, it could be good for him.

He moved a hair from the boy’s eyes lovingly. “Was it scary?” He asked with a hum.

Peter giggled wetly, some of his onesie becoming moist from spit as he smiled at his Daddy, happy now to be close by. “Uh huhhhhhh. Really.” He insisted.

Tony smiled again, before setting Peter down on the ground of the living room, where a little plush mat was always situated. “Well, we don’t like scary monsters.”

The boy shook his head. “Nuhs.” He whined.

Tony tried to walk away, really he did. If he could just grab the hot chocolate mix, he could get the baby back down by 2, then have some quality Daddy time. 

But, Peter… Peter had other plans. The boy pointed in his Daddy’s direction, and voiced angrily. “Dada carry.”

“Okay, babes, I can carry you.” Tony sighed.

He made his way into the kitchen, one handed and barely managing like that, and whipped up some milk with chocolate powder and a minor touch of sleep aids, before plopping himself and Peter down on the couch.

Once the bottle was swallowed down mere minutes later, Tony watched lovingly while Peter dozed off into dreamland once again.

He smiled down once more as the baby’s eyes drifted shut. “Sweet dreams.”


	26. Mcdonalds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> But every week they had to wait to do something fun until Friday, which was completely dumb and Bucky hated it.
> 
> Daddy had been acting all yucky since he started having to work for so long. Sometimes, he would leave Bucky with Uncle Tony or Uncle Thor for the night and when he came to pick him up of a morning he would be acting different. Plus he always smelled gross on those days, like his breath was covered in something funny.

Bucky wanted Mcdonalds.

No, he wasn’t being a brat. He just wanted it. And now.

He didn’t understand  _ why  _ Daddy wasn’t able to take him to Mcdonalds. What was the difference? 

But  _ oh no, Bucky. We can’t go to Mcdonalds until Friday. Then, maybe we can go. _

What was so special about Friday anyway? It was Wednesday! Wednesday was basically Thursday which was basically Friday, Bucky knew that. He had a learning calendar in his room and every morning Daddy showed him what day it was. So, it was clearly close enough.

But every week they had to wait to do something fun until Friday, which was completely dumb and Bucky hated it.

Daddy had been acting all yucky since he started having to work for so long. Sometimes, he would leave Bucky with Uncle Tony or Uncle Thor for the night and when he came to pick him up of a morning he would be acting different. Plus he always smelled gross on those days, like his breath was covered in something funny.

Bucky wanted his old Daddy back.

The one that didn’t have to work so late and get less money because of stupid big people and their stupid ideas about who’s a good worker even though Daddy is clearly the bestest.

The one who just took Bucky out to eat all the time without saying no.

The one who didn’t keep talking about Santa with Uncle Tony on the phone even though Santa doesn’t even come for grown ups so they have nothing to be whispering about.

He wanted it all back.

But, no. So here he was. Waiting patiently at Uncle Thor’s apartment, still dressed in his jammies, and still mad that when he talked to Daddy last night he’d been told no Mcdonalds for lunch today.

“James. Do not cause me trouble. Come dress.” Uncle Thor barked from behind where he was say at the table grumpily.

Bucky huffed, but wearily sat up and took Thor’s hand, letting himself be taken into Natasha’s room while the girl followed behind.

They had had a fun sleepover, but Bucky always thought it was kind of silly that Tasha couldn’t let him get  _ five steps away _ .

Once dressed, the boy stomped to the front door, just in time to see his Daddy open it.

He didn’t run for him.

“What? You mad at me?” Daddy chuckled, opening his arms for the expected hug. As Bucky walked into it, feeling as though it was polite, he noted that Daddy smelled funny again.

He needed a shower.

And some water.

“You know I love you, right?” Daddy asked.

Sure.

Bucky liked to lie to himself, too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as always, comments and kudos are much appreciated!!!!


	27. Lightning And Thunder part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “The hell are you doing out here?”  
> “Nothing. Nothing at all.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oop this is SHORT guys im so sorry life got so busy so fast

Thor knew Loki needed some time to think things through.

There was a lot going on lately, anyhow.

He wasn’t particularly interested in the familial debate of it all, but it wasn’t much to Thor’s liking that Loki thought it proper to sit himself atop the fire escape rafters like a boy.

So, as Natasha slept peacefully in her room, doll held close and Hello Kitty sheets pulled tight, he decided coming out to the edge would be worthwhile.

”Don’t you have an apartment of your own?” He questioned, taking a seat next to his brother.

Loki flinched, but calmed when he recognized Thor. 

“I needed to be near her. For the night at least. Any niece of mine is to be protected undyingly.” He explained.

Thor chuckled.

Yes, that sounded like Loki.Very much. Only a man as downset and dreary as his gothic brother could be so dramatic.

”She will be fine. You sound like a Caregiver with such love, though. Maybe we need to see about putting some of your beloved savings into a retest.” He jested.

Loki shoved him jokingly, but Thor felt the anger. Something was very wrong.

“The hell are you doing out here?”

“Nothing. Nothing at all.”

Thor glared. “I don’t respect lies from her, I certainly do not respect them from you. Speak your truth, brother, or this whole ordeal may grow grim.” He threatened.

Once again, Loki flinched.

God, Thor was beginning to resemble their father.

Even with Loki’s limited memories of before, of the constant screaming and the gunfire, of the blood and the children, he had those lingering signs of trauma. 

The way Loki would strangle dolls as a child, with a phone cord and not his bare hands, would scare their mother senseless.

Never the hands. Hands left messes. Hands left shapes and bruises. 

That’s what father would always say.

”When Natasha goes there,” Loki asked, “will she be scared?”

Truthfully, Thor didn’t know. He had taken Natasha on trips before, mostly paid for by Uncle Tony as a birthday surprise or treat after a rough week.

She always had fun seeing the world.

But- going home?

It was important for his own healing, perhaps, but some part of Thor’s own distaste for it fueled his worry.

Norway was a dark place.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> love yall!!! as always, comments and kudos are much appreciated!!!!


	28. Lightning and Thunder part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> WILL IT POST THIS TIME JESUS CHRIST

The grass of Norway is green.

Green.

Green.

Green.

The grass back home is also green.

Green.

Green.

Green.

This was not that bad, Thor assured himself. He was fine. He was fine.

She was fine.

But Natasha was fine, wasn’t she?

She was holding Daddy’s hand just like she had been taught, and carefully walking behind him. The Airport was a little hectic for her, but she wasn’t crying so Thor took that as a win.

The signs weren’t in English, wish she had excitedly pointed out to him.

It was always funny how they were both bilingual and didn’t understand the other’s second language.

Then again, if he ever spoke Russian in front of Nat she would probably scream. And he, too, if she mistakenly repeated the tongue of his past.

This was fine.

He could do this.

Hadn’t he been to this airport before? Wasn’t this the one where-

No.

No.

No.

No.

No.

New topic of thought. Wee woo wee woo train of thought is taking a turn here. Wee woo.

“Daddy?” Natasha spoke up. Thor froze, looking down at his Little. “Yes, precious?” He checked.

Natasha giggled at the nick name. “Dada gotta house here or just did long time ‘go?” She asked.

Curiosity was something they worked on. Daily. Getting her to a point where she could ask a question without fear was always exciting.

But why now?

”Yes, I suppose I do. To some extent. My family owns property still. But, you and I will be staying far away from there. We’ll be in a hotel, okay?” He explained.

Natasha nodded, but was visibly dissapointed. They couldn’t ask a Little of her age to understand how Daddy’s trauma and her’s were different. That would be cruel.

Thor just really wanted to get in his Stark-paid rental car (because god forbid they do something without Uncle Tony handing over a wad of cash) and head to Oslo.

It was going to be a rough week.


	29. Lightning And Thunder pt. 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thor rolled his eyes. “He is a drama queen, that’s what he is.” He remarked.
> 
> Heimdall smiled grimly. “I suppose so. Still remember the old place?” He asked.
> 
> Thor sighed. “Suprised you still run it, that’s all.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> reminder if you didnt see it that updates are temporarily going every other week!!! TEMPORARY!!! dw it will be back as soon as possible to every week

Thor thanked the cab driver politely, helping Natasha up as well and carrying her up to the hotel.

Oh, god.

Not again.

“Odinson, a pleasure.” Heimdall greeted from the front desk, that shit eating grin as present as ever.

Heimdall had been like a second father to him, always right where he needed to be. Now, looking back, Thor understood why it had felt that way.

But today… god, why had he assumed?

“You remember me.” He smiled tightly.

Heimdall chuckled. “I remember you well. Always the attention-starved middle child that catches my eye.” He explained.

_ Sure. _ Thor thought to himself,  _ Catching eyes as often as they’re losing them. _

The Caregiver tutted, though, playing along. “I suppose you have a knack for that.” He supplied.

And he did.

He really, really did.

Heimdall smiled. “Yes, I do.”

_ Asshole. _

_ Not in front of Nat. Never in front of Nat. _

As if catching wind of Thor’s thoughts, though, Heimdall brought his attention to the small bundle in his godson’s arms. “And who might this be?”

Natasha flinched, sensing that the stranger was referring to her and being too afraid of strangers to take it well.

That was good, for once. It meant she was safe.

At the very least, Thor could take comfort in remembering. In knowing of his familiarity with these walls.

Heimdall had owned the property for decades. It had been a front, there had been an armory hidden behind the bookcase, so that all weapons were hidden. No trace of what Odin and his men had done left.

But it was an actual hotel now, after everything that happened. No secrets. It got a sweep so often that it would be impossible, and Hela had handed all information to the Politi- og lensmannsetaten.

They were safe here. Odinsons were always kept safe in this part of the city.

Always.

Even after...

“This is Natasha. She stays by my side.” He explained.

“I see. Well then, I’m glad you’ve found a companion. And your... brother? Laila, is it?”

Thor tutted. “Loki. You know it’s Loki.” He remarked. He didn’t like that joke. Never had. But Heimdall had always made it.

_ Poor excuse for an heir, that one. Distracted with the curtains when there’s a perfectly good toy before him. Could throw him to the hounds for all it matters, but Thor and Hela are only being weighed down with that daft creature making a mockery of their lessons. _

“I do, don’t I? I have seen his… career choices. Not what I imagined for him, but it is what it is.”

Thor rolled his eyes. “He is a drama queen, that’s what he is.” He remarked.

Heimdall smiled grimly. “I suppose so. Still remember the old place?” He asked.

Thor sighed. “Suprised you still run it, that’s all.”

He shouldn’t run it.

Heimdall had been incarcerated for most of Thor’s time healing. When he got released, he had assumed the position of owner would never be handed back.

Then again, loyalties were hard to tarnish. And with tactics like Heimdall’s… it wasn’t that surprising he had managed to take it back.

“Why are you here, Thor?”

“Just visiting.”

“Staying?”

“Hell no.”

Heimdall sighed. “I always told your mother you needed to-”

No.

No.

No.

No.

No.

Thor snapped. scaring Natasha a little. “Don’t speak of my mother.”

A moment passed, silence. A floorboard creeking here, a thump over there. Thor was surprised he could still tell which room each sound came from. He was surprised even more that he couldn’t remember when he had been taught to do that. “Thank you.” He smiled, before taking his key from the desk.

As Thor walked off, he heard Heimdall’s voice echo from behind him.

“Be careful with the Little. She’s a sweet one. Wouldn’t want to see her get lost wandering the halls alone. You know how big the place is.”

He did.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and kudos are much appreciated! Love you all xoxo


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